Five Songs

I
This is a song for you alone:
of childish longing,
of pious tears...
Through morning gardens it sings,
lightly winged.
This song is meant
to move but you alone.

II
In the wind's murmur my quest
was a mere dream.
A smile was all
that you had given.
Out of the wet night
a radiance sparked -
Now May lends urge,
now I must live all day
in longing
for your eyes and hair.

III
Beside the stream
the earliest to bloom
are the hazels.
A bird whistles
in the cool meadow.
A glow touches,
warms us, softly,
trembles and fades.
The field is fallow,
the tree still grey...
Perhaps Spring will shower us with blossoms.

IV
In morning dew
you came with me
to see the cherry tree
in bud,
to drink the scent
of grass.
Dust swirls afar...
Nature not yet
has brought forth
leaf or fruit -
Only blossoms abound...
And the southwind blows.

V
The bare tree strains
its freezing life
in winter's mist.
Let your dream arise
in calm uplifting
at sight of it.
It stretches forth its arms -
Think often of it with this grace.
That in pain,
that in ice
it still hopes for the Spring.

Stefan George