The rain has left a glistening sheen upon the roofs,
As butterflies twitter and take to the open blue skies,
April's winds lend grace as does the drifting cotton clouds.
But my backyard remains dull, full and brown,
With just a lone unchanging bush and tree.
Were it not for Spring's soft distant song,
I could not be certain love has arrived.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem