There the almond-tree its silvery blossoms scatters, sprays of spring:
_Gaily live! for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring!_[5]

Once again, with flow'rets decked themselves have mead and plain;
Tents for pleasure have the blossoms raised in every rosy lane;
Who can tell, when spring hath ended, who and what may whole remain?
_Gaily live! for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring!_

* * * * *

Sparkling dew-drops stud the lily's leaf like sabre broad and keen;
Bent on merry gipsy party, crowd they all the flow'ry green!
List to me, if thou desirest, these beholding, joy to glean:
_Gaily live! for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring!_

Rose and tulip, like to maidens' cheeks, all beauteous show,
Whilst the dew-drops, like the jewels in their ears, resplendent glow;
Do not think, thyself beguiling, things will aye continue so:
_Gaily live! for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring!_

* * * * *

Whilst each dawn the clouds are shedding jewels o'er the rosy land,
And the breath of morning zephyr, fraught with Tátár musk, is bland;
Whilst the world's fair time is present, do not thou unheeding stand:
_Gaily live! for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring!_

With the fragrance of the garden, so imbued the musky air,
Every dew-drop, ere it reaches earth, is turned to attar rare;
O'er the parterre spread the incense-clouds a canopy right fair: