(the news of my love)
THE NEWS OF my love is abroad among the spring flowers.
It brings to my mind the old songs.
My heart of a sudden has put on green leaves of desire.
My love came not but her touch is on my hair, and her voice comes across
the fragrant fields in murmurs of April.
Her gaze is here in the sky, but where are her eyes?
Her kisses are in the air, but where are her lips?