Bees and Stuff
Spring reminds me of an old swing
The one that’s banned from fabrication
Being heated by the sun it made creaks,
And carefree sounds of parents’ conversations,
And fresh young air awaken from the mists
Exhausted from the speed of roads
Came tearing, laid for a nap in chestnuts,
As if there is no pain, and troubles forward,
And wind that’s full of life and hope
Mischiefing with my hair
Removing extra heavy capes
Spring-coats it spins in air,
And birds conducting branches
Of trees still sleepy but revived
And playing symphonies of chatters
Plunged nature in a harmony and quiet,
Spring reminds me of the spring before
And the one before last, and every other
One and the same good old glamour
Charms every time like it’s a new one,
Sweet melancholy, oh, nostalgia!
Spring takes away all my sarcastic cynicism
A tranquiliser, a euphoria
And this disgusting, sickening romanticism
