At the call of spring, the mind
comes across the green hills, A soft, calm breeze, It mixes with the scent of flowers, And the secret pain of the earth's heart.
These flowers say silently, Love means a silent touch, As if dew falls on the corner of the leaf, No one else sees it, yet it is a prayer.
Light falls between the trees, The wind sings in the leaves, The mind says this is life, Here lies the pull of the heart.
In the distance, the mountains, the blue fringe, Below them are waves of white flowers, It feels as if nature is writing about love anew today.
Each flower is like a heart, Opening the door of Maya, They say that even though we are momentary, Love is forever.
No one sees their tears, When they fall in the heat of the sun, Yet they smile, as if to teach, Love means giving, not demanding.
I sit on the edge of the field, Slowly blending into the air, The flowers call people, come, Love again in the whole nest.
That scene sticks in my eyes, Where the white flowers speak, Say you are not alone in the world, You remain among us too.
Love does not mean someone's touch, Nor a promise of oath, Love means being silent, It also means pain next to someone.
If ever your heart is filled with sadness, Then come, to these flowers, They will say, everything will be okay, We are still here, by your side.
These trees do not know the name and place, yet they recognize the words of the heart, just as nature itself is a poet, in the same way, humans are its own pain. So in this sea of white flowers, I find my own anger, love means burning inside, yet it spreads endlessly outside.