Lady Spring

is exquisitely dressed,

enrobed in lemon trees

and orange buds.
 
 

Her sandals are wide leaves,

and blushing fuchsias

complete her caravan.
 
 

Go out to meet her

along these roads.

She rides with sunshine

and trilled melodies.
 
 

Lady Spring,

with luxuriant breath,

laughs at all the world's pains.
 
 

She does not believe the one

who tells her about shattered lives.

How can she chance to touch

them among the sweet jasmine?
 
 

How can she discover them

reflected in fountains

of looking glass gold

and radiant songs?
 
 

From brown cracks

in the sick earth,

rose bushes light up

with red pirouettes.
 
 

She puts on her laces,

adorns herself green

over the somber stones

of the dead.
 
 
 
 

Lady Spring,

with your glorious hands,

make us, in the name of life,

scatter roses:
 
 

roses of joy,

roses of forgiveness,

roses of love

and exultation.
 
 
 

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Page last edited February 14, 2000
by: PhoneBoy