The rolling hills, the celestial meadows, and everlasting firmament,
Bequeaths their benevolence.
Upon such extravagance, we traverse our paths.
Like actors upon a stage, we strut our part and then are gone.
Come open the tavern,
And let us drink the nectar of the Gods.
You know how little while we have to stay, and once gone, may
Never return.
My sweetheart and I traipse the meadows,
Hand in hand.
Love in its
sublimity calls the virtues of Spring to all and sundry:
Repopulate.
Animals and humans don their most attractive attire to attract
A mate. And so, the life cycle continues.
In the meadows, the furry critters leap from tree to tree in their excitement
Of the Spring equinox.
Sheep join in the celestial chorus
of rebirth.
They bay, and their lambs leap with excitement.
In other fields, mares that have given foal chases after their offspring as
They frolics in celebration.
At night down by the river,
The fairies, top-hatted elks, and centaurs circle
Around a fire to sing and dance, to the accompaniment of hornpipes,
Stringed instruments and drums.
This phantasmagoria carries on till the break of day.
When King Oberon and Queen Titania arise from their thrones and shout,
“The morrow heralds its golden rays. Let us be gone.”
Till next life affords us this rapturous opportunity, may the gods in their
beneficence grant us peace.
Shantih, Shantih, Shantih.
