There’ll be fabulous rain; there’ll be smell of the lawn.
There’ll be swallows a ‘singing from dusk until dawn.
And the nightly concerto by frogs in the pond,
And a plum tree the color of a platinum blonde.
And a feathery robin alight on the fence
Whistling whimsical tunes of her little romance.
And no one will recall that there once was the war
When it’s gone, when it’s dead, so what good is it for?
No one grieves. No one cries. Neither bird and nor rose
If forever and ever humanity goes
And the spring… and the Spring will salute new sunrise
Never noticing our demise.