If the trees had a tongue to speak, and sang with the spring and beauty; the dry branches change with green buds and small rose buttons, in which the dew sprinkles on the rose petals to fall asleep in his arms, and spreads his perfume everywhere, and how wonderful poem sang this wonderful chapter, Beautiful grandmothers rotated about the beauty of spring, how not to, a separation of colored butterflies, the separation of love, the beginning of beautiful things