Easter
Look: the rainbow traces the arch of life
above the field that's growing green.
Seek out your sweethearts, maidens,
where the fountain gushes from the rock.
Where the water laughs, dreams, and passes on,
there the ballad of love is recited.
Are there not destined to view the spring sunlight
in astonishment, some day, in your arms,
eyes which are closed to the light at the outset
and which go blind upon departing from life?
Shall they not drink at your breast some day,
those who tomorrow will till the soil?
Oh, on this bright Sunday, young mothers in blossom,
celebrate your youthful wombs!
Enjoy this smile from your rough mother.
Now the storks are living in their lovely nests
and inscribing their white scrawls on the steeples.
The mosses on the rocks gleam like emeralds.
Amid the oaks the black bulls
nibble the low grass,
and the shepherd who grazes the merinos
leaves his brown cloak behind on the mountain.
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