It dawns... Smiling, the birds

their tender concert tune,

intoning in festival, tender warbling,

the clear matutinal symphony.

Slow and clear raises the sun... Goes by the road

breathing the breeze... Fog flocks

wander shining like gold... In the foliage,

a telling in secret of flowers one imagine.

Corymbs trembling, bedewing,

they waive, they shine, like diamonds,

through the florescent prairie out.

Flowers curve the stalk, from time to time,

and cheer, and oscillating, they go greeting