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.