Banal Romance

It is spring and a little bird's singing, It's exulting again in the flight, Do not lie to me clove that you're seeming that the lilies bloom wildly and bright. Oh, I do not believe for some reason, Let the sun is so fondle to me, I'm like deaf, but the waking up season rings with whispering stream that does flee. The grass rises to heaven, it's noisy, And collecting the dewdrops of May Beetle chirps in the green very closely, And the sudden wind blows it away. Let it chirps me again, I don't listen, I have not met with miracles yet, I'm like deaf, but the waking up season vivifies our wood that was dead. And the hearts beat around, pay attention, And the fire's in eyes of the maids, And the horses bite bridles of passion without sparing the blush for the face. Oh, I do not believe for some reason, Heart has so many burns, wounds still bleed, I'm like deaf, but the waking up season is alluring with sweetest deceit.