It's been a long cold, hard winter, the warm sun feels so good; the coo of the dove from an open window. Ah! It's finally Spring, a time for love, poetry and art.
A Taoist poem from the East:
"Aroused by the beauty of spring,
unable to sleep, I watch the moon
move flower shadows up my silk curtain."
Ancient Greek writer from the West
translated by H. de Vere Stacpoole, Sappho
"Sweet mother, at the idle loom I lean,
Weary with longing for the boy that still
Remains a dream of loveliness--to fill
My soul, my life, at Aphrodite's will."
