Bloom will perish, birds grow dumb,
All things lovely disappear.
But the time has not yet come
To leave off our song.
HYEEVKA—SONG OF THE WOODS
What did she bring us, the beautiful Spring?
Fair tresses, maiden’s beauty.
A maiden’s beauty is as dew in summer
Washed in a spring, dried in an oven,
Set on a table, wrapped in paper.