A Birch in Spring
The birch shines white 'mong the marshy trees,
young, pure, and silken her bark,
Spring wakes her up from the winter freeze
with a spell from his magical store.
Whether snowdrop or cuckoo-flower,
whatever in blossom is found,
Spring lays at her feet in her regal bower,
the queen of his inmost heart.
With a modest flourish, he paints his name
across the trunk and around,
then he kisses her anywhere he can,
with buds and flowers - they abound.
Of a sudden she 's woven about with the palest green,
like a wedding dress, light as breath,
into which she steps, is dressed and is seen,
as the most beautiful lass in the land.
(Nachdichtung: Derek Donaldson)