The roses are blooming

Hear, spring comes!

The meadow, the water

The cracked ice and sun.


The trees whisper

Letting the wind blow through their branches

The flowers compete, for the prize of beauty

And the sea- appeals to the birds,

Who praise its waves.


Children play

Bunnies are born

The world is renewing

Blow thy horns!


The grey disappears,

Opens the sky

For the warm ray of sun

Which pierces fro up high