Spring, with the cuckoo-sob deep in his throat,
O’er all the land Hearkens a little, smiles, and sleeps again.
his thrilling whispers float,
Old earth believes his ancient lies once more,
And runs to meet him in a golden coat.
And many a lovely girl that long hath lain
Beneath the grass,
out in the sun and rain,
Lifts up a daisied head to hear him sing,
Le Gallienne
Each tuft of grass that you see by a stream
Looks as if it’s a part of some angelic face;
Be careful not to step contemptuously on the grass
For it may have grown from the dust of a tulip-faced maid.
Before your time and mine, the night and day have long alternated,
And the revolving heavens have been long at work;
Whenever you step on the soil, tread gently.
For you may be stepping on the pupil of a beloved’s eye.
Karim Emami