Behold, the time is come, when the earth is about to clothe itself in verdure,
When the blossoms breaking forth over the branches, make them become as the hand of Moses,
When, as if quickened by the breath of Jesus the plants spring from the earth,
When at last the clouds open their eyes to weep.
Lit.
A nice day, nither too hot nor cold,
Clouds sprinkling the dust from checks that were rose-gardens:
The nightingale in the old tongue of Persia cries out
To the yellow rose, “Wine is for wassail.”
(note: from the Old English salutation “woesl” – “be thou whole!”)
Now spring with basage green the earth embowers
And trees, like Musa’s hand, grow white with flowers!
As ‘t were at ‘Isa’s breath the plants revive,
While clouds brim o’er, like tearful eyes, with showers.
Lit.
Look, how the morning breeze has helped the rosebud bloom!
And how at the sight of the rose the nightingale swoons!
Come, sit in the shade of the rosebush, for such a rose
Has often grown out of the soil, to fall down again!
It’s a lovely day; neither too hot nor too cold;
Clouds regularly refresh the flowers in the field;
And the Nightingale calls out in secret Pahlevi to the Yellow Rose;
Carousing time! It’s carousing time!
Ere yet the measure’s brimmed for us they’re pouring up."
Karim Emami
Love, the fair day is drawing to its close,
The stars are rising, and a soft wind blows,
The gates of heaven are opening in a dream –
The nightingale sings to the sleeping rose.
Le Gallienne