Spring comes into the land,
Flying upon the wings of swallows,
And preceding it and following it
All the birds sing,
And though silent, but happy enough,
Around spring in silent flight,
Flurry upon flurry, 
Comes an army of butterflies.

Thereupon the forest begins to feel so youthful,
Takes hold of a new mood;
The oldest mountains now place
Twigs upon their hats;
Yes, wherever even only a small crack
Has split the rock, grey and cold,
There immediately
A freshly blooming flower is suspended.

With merry face the flower gazes
Far over all the valleys
Toward the morning light
And toward the beam of evening;
And when twilight comes with cool dew
And when night melts down,
She trustingly offers
And fills her chalice as well.

And, beautified, earth and heaven 
Are reflected in the flower's chalice,
The while in the forest below sound
The May-happy feathered creatures.
And laughing, spring hovers in the blue air
High over mountain and gorge,
And sprinkles scent 
From its full head of curls.