Spring

March 21

Go high in the sky the moon of spring.
I believe in you and in me I'm full.
Run by vacant fields to me a slight breeze.
I believe in you, muttered your name, and not me: I am happy.

Tomorrow turn, walk me through the field to gather flowers,
I walk the fields you see you pick flowers.
I see you tomorrow to pick me flowers the fields,
When you come tomorrow because me and floors in the field to pick flowers,
This will be a joy and a truth for me.