The air has become so soft and gentle
In the course of a single night,
The ice is breaking up, the snow is melting,
Then everywhere it grows green.

In the twiggy tree-tops a little bird,
Full of songs, rocks itself quietly;
Then all the branches blossom whitely,
In my heart, too, it blossoms once more.

Pain cries itself out so sweetly,
And love rejoices brightly,
For me, heart and house become too confining
To hold all the urges of springtime.

And when it blooms in hill and dale,
All around the world there is rejoicing,
As if, in the radiance of spring,
The world must become a paradise.