The peat-bog is as the raven's coat,
The loud cuckoo bids welcome,
The speckled fish leaps—
Strong is the bound of the swift warrior.
Man flourishes, the maiden buds
In her fair strong pride.
Perfect each forest from top to ground,
Perfect each great stately plain.
Delightful is the season's splendour,
Rough winter has gone:
Every fruitful wood shines white,
A joyous peace is summer.
A flock of birds settles
In the midst of meadows,
The green field rustles,
Wherein is a brawling white stream.
A wild longing is on you to race horses,
The ranked host is ranged around:
A bright shaft has been shot into the land,
So that the water-flag is gold beneath it.
A timorous, tiny, persistent little fellow
Sings at the top of his voice,
The lark sings clear tidings:
Surpassing summer-time of delicate hues!
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