France Preseren

3 December 1800 – 8 February 1849 / Vrba

A Wreath Of Sonnets (14/14)

Fresh flowers will spread fragrance far and near,
Like roses when the winter's passed away,
And spring displays its marvellous array,
While through the trees white scattered blossoms peer.

The bees hum in the air sun-drenched and clear,
The shepherd's up by golden break of day,
Loud trills the nightingale on many a spray -
All nature is aglow with joyful cheer.

I know I scarce deserve such bliss; my mind
Is full of dread that you may still disdain
These poems or be vexed by them again.

Let them at least some little favour find
With you; to ease by it his bitter pain,
A Slovene wreath your poet has entwined.
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