The bursting bud; the bee a-buzzing;
the wind that whispers foolishness:
what men know simply as the spring
whose coming drives the earth quite senseless;
now my brain's fizzing with all that -
I'd stick a feather in my hat
if I weren't so respectable,
so stiff in my black frock-coat.
Oh, if I only could unbutton
In one big bunch I'd take you all on,
you lasses from the byre, the town,
you knowing one, you yokel-dumb,
you from the big house, from the slum,
and you, oh tree, and grass, and down,
you too, white slowly-pacing father,
you horse, you sun, you cloud, you water,
and I'd dance in amongst you all,
if I weren't so respectable,
so stiff in my black frock-coat.

Translation byTanis Guest