Never before, at the beauty of spring;

Have I noticed the scent, of so many things

Of maple and cherry, and roses of red;

And the lingering stench, of the wandering dead 



No further than nature, I wander to breathe;

The fluttering scent, of flowers and weeds

The quickening scent, of upgrading pines;

Refreshingly green, from the changing in times 



'Camouflaged by grief and dissembled in sorrow; the advent of spring, in the rise of tomorrow

Shall weather its beauty and relish its pain; wandering forth in golden rain' 



I heed to the singing, of birds in the sky;

Roused by the sprouting, of life that revives

I cherish this season, not lasting for long;

Where the sounding of conflict, is blended song 



I heed to the crackle, of opening sprouts;

At the beauty of springtime, where flowers arise

I rest among grass, that is emerald green;

Tranquil with a healthy, abundance of spleen 



Erect and majestic, of blistering crowns;

The oak trees are growing, at the rising of time

On freshly cut grass, on an emerald lawn;

I heed to the sounding, and the making of spawn 



Never before, at the beauty of spring;

Have I noticed the scent, of so many things

Of lilies and daisies, and red pimpernel;

And the fluttering scent, of the fires from Hell