Uploaded March 2026 | Updated September 2026, 3 days ago
Jimenez poem for La Primavera:
4. Spring (La primavera)
“O what sparkles and odors!
O how pasture grounds rejoice!
O what joy and mirth are heard!”
(Popular ballad)
My morning nap is disturbed by a devilish noise of children and I am in an ill-humor. No longer able to sleep, I leave my bed in despair. Then, looking out from my open window, I realize that it is the birds whose shrill clatter has disturbed my slumbers.
I go down to the garden and sing thanks to the God of the blue day. Free concert of singing bills, fresh and endless music. The swallow, fanciful one, utters her warbling from the well; the blackbird whistles on the fallen orange; the fiery golden oriole chatters from evergreen to evergreen; the blue titmouse laughs long and daintily on the top of the eucalyptus tree; and in the tallest pine the sparrows argue outrageously. What a morning! The sun spreads his gold and silver gladness on the earth; myriad-colored butterflies flit everywhere, among the flowers, through the house, now in, now out, above the spring. Everywhere the countryside burst open to a bubbling of new and wholesome life. It is as though we were inside a great honeycomb of light, which might be the heart of an immense, calid, scarlet rose.
Jimenez poem for La Primavera:
4. Spring (La primavera)
“O what sparkles and odors!
O how pasture grounds rejoice!
O what joy and mirth are heard!”
(Popular ballad)
My morning nap is disturbed by a devilish noise of children and I am in an ill-humor. No longer able to sleep, I leave my bed in despair. Then, looking out from my open window, I realize that it is the birds whose shrill clatter has disturbed my slumbers.
I go down to the garden and sing thanks to the God of the blue day. Free concert of singing bills, fresh and endless music. The swallow, fanciful one, utters her warbling from the well; the blackbird whistles on the fallen orange; the fiery golden oriole chatters from evergreen to evergreen; the blue titmouse laughs long and daintily on the top of the eucalyptus tree; and in the tallest pine the sparrows argue outrageously. What a morning! The sun spreads his gold and silver gladness on the earth; myriad-colored butterflies flit everywhere, among the flowers, through the house, now in, now out, above the spring. Everywhere the countryside burst open to a bubbling of new and wholesome life. It is as though we were inside a great honeycomb of light, which might be the heart of an immense, calid, scarlet rose.
