Distant hillsides, covered in snow, reveal their shapes. I long for Spring, for its green pastels and the reawakening of life...

Soon, Spring!

From this distance, these wooded hills,
With their branches bare, seem lifeless
Underneath the deep, shadowed snows
That cover and at the same time reveal
Their undulations, their shapes, their faces.
Soon, though--yes, soon!—these hillsides,
These branches will be in bud again,
Will soon—Yes, soon!—be transformed again,
Will soon leaf out, will become green again,
Will re-awaken anew—O, rejoice, yes!
Refreshing my sleeping senses—Yes! Soon!
Spring, miraculous, loveliest of all promises:
Another pure beginning, a pure resuming,
Soon becoming, another rebirth of all being—
Soon, the sun—Yes!—will warm these hillsides,
Will melt these snows and I will behold them,
Will breathe in their sweet, fresh fragrances,
Will taste the air of their delicate greening,
Will hear their gentle, slow unfolding,
Will touch the very air of their being!
Soon Spring will return again, soon,
Yes, it will be Spring!