Nettle-bed tulips line...
Who shall say no?
Willow and birch entwined
By the spring grow.

Apple-tree listening
In the warm dusk.
Pale sky, stars glistening,
Every breeze hushed.

Thus little sister gave
Solace to me...
You're not a swallow grey!
You're her, maybe?

Come from my land, maybe?
Once more, please, trill!
That spring, that apple-tree,
I see them still...

Translated by Peter Tempest