The first season of each new year is spring
and the cold weather has no other concern in mind than this;
when will it come.
Winter brings rain and the seed of its beauty leaps,
the wind blows and clears its face that it may shine,
in the frost it gains strength to bloom, a ripe bud,
in the darkness it longs for the light,
in the hush it practices warbling and humming.
Winter snow comes down from the hills to keep it cool,
colourfully whispering the secrets of its lost whiteness
to the rivulets’ water:
You can’t step twice into the same river.
