The earth is pregnant, wants to sing –
But our earth's voice, the poets, have remained too silent
Too long. The spring
Hides, shivering beneath a violent
Blizzard’s cover of snow.
The clouds attempt to part to let the sun
Try opening green patches in the sparkling glow
So violet crocuses can come up, one,
Another, to bring hope.
A child is ready to be born,
Ready to grope
Its way into this world where scorn
Will be all it is shown
By those who live on winter’s death –
And who will be the first to see him as he’s grown.
The earth will yet give birth – new breath
Will soon be given to the poets, soon
The spring will burst,
And summer’s strong, bright noon,
The earth’s new joyful song will quench the world's thirst.