photo #299819

O young men! our joy,You don't know her,To see, like a glowing button,Spring that dawns.When the sun, very young, is goldenThe rainy roofs yesterday,A dawn of youth againLaughs in the hearts of the old.He revives, through the windowThat we hurry to open,From the thrill of what will be bornWhat will die;Him, by whom so many flowers bloomedWill enchant the purple,It evokes old rosesTo our withered foreheads,And, when the gold of his glory abounds,To the mirrors we run away fromMakes us blonde hairWith its rays.He is chasing the mists for us!In the winter white with iciclesYou mix with the coughs of our coldsSounds of songs;Whether it's windy or snowing, it doesn't matter!Without truce, in your young hearts,Soft and strong ardor triumphVictorious July;You know, igneous lips,The kisses never ended,Even when the flowers are witheredAnd empty the nests.To those who sleep in winterApril must be backSo that in them opens, vermilion flower,The love of love.But, then, the sweetness is suchTo be so rare, we feel itSo divine to be mortalAlmost reborn,That our deluded soulWould not want to change toYour summer all year roundOur springs for a day!