My First Inspiration

An English translation by Nick Joaquin  

 

Why falls so rich a spray

of fragrance from the bowers

of the balmy flowers

upon this festive day?

 

Why from woods and vales

do we hear sweet measures ringing

that seem to be the singing

of a choir of nightingales?

 

Why in the grass below

do birds start at the wind's noises,

unleashing their honeyed voices

as they hop from bough to bough?

 

Why should the spring that glows

its crystalline murmur be tuning

to the zephyr's mellow crooning

as among the flowers it flows?

 

Why seems to me more endearing,

more fair than on other days,

the dawn's enchanting face

among red clouds appearing?

 

The reason, dear mother, is

they feast your day of bloom:

the rose with its perfume,

the bird with its harmonies.

 

And the spring that rings with laughter

upon this joyful day

with its murmur seems to say:

"Live happily ever after!"

 

And from that spring in the grove

now turn to hear the first note

that from my lute I emote

to the impulse of my love!