SPRING
It’s here, it has come.
Women, gather round,
let’s march to meet it,
let’s march to welcome it.
Here comes sweet spring
adorned in flowers,
riding a donkey,
sitting like a man
with herds of braying
donkeys close behind it,
ready all to copulate
ready to be lovers all.
They kick with all four legs
and bellow in their joy,
so wildly alive that you can see
the madness in their eyes
and braying all along
they bellow out spring’s beauty
and carry it abroad
for all the world to see
and spring, as it proceeds
and blazons its warm breath,
fills up the entranceway
of every house with heat.
The newly married maiden
feels hot in the cool air
and dresses in her
lightest cotton dress
and walks out to refresh herself
for all to see her passion
and the wind, if it can,
to cool her ardor.
Ah, spring, sweet spring,
companion of the young,
youth’s oestrus, comrade
equally to boys and girls
if you run out to the fields
even if you took away your steps
a myriad of followers
you will always find beside you
while all the long-lived men
who can no longer walk the fields
to meet you, stay behind
and envying, blame the young.
Ah spring, let us give
to others their fair share
without losing our good hold
on the reins of your donkey.
Look how the young girls
play and push each other.
Look how they fall and show
their secret lines to men.
Ah spring, stay steady
on the saddle
and hold more tightly
to your donkey’s reins.
Oh spring, oh my sweet spring,
companion of the young
youth’s oestrus, comrade
equally to boys and girls.
Libros Libertad 