With icy winds and frozen fields,
Almighty winter reigns,
As everything before her yields,
Then falls to death in pains.

The suns are helpless to behold,
The snow heavy clouds churn,
Yet find some comfort in the fact,
That they shall have their turn.

Ah, but hopes are running high,
For graceful spring returns,
As empty clouds begin to sigh,
And slowly cease their churns.

And as the skies begin to clear,
The clouds are forced to pay,
They have no shelter: far, or near,
From the sun's golden ray.

As suns through cold savagely rip,
The snows silently melt,
And winter loses her tight grip,
The final blow being dealt.

As plants burst through the earth of brown,
Birds chirp their playful call,
The lonely woods renew their crown,
And rise forever tall.

And soon the trees begin to bloom,
With flowers of all hues,
As orchards new aspects assume,
And pleasant scents diffuse.

The insects drown the fields in noise,
Of movement which they bring,
As all of nature now enjoys,
The long awaited spring.

Penned by my hand on the 4th of Fas, in the year 497 AD.