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
