When spring comes in the Himalayan valleys
Nature at the promises of life urgently rallies
As if to celebrate the cruel winter’s departure
For having icily ruled earth with its torture
As the sun warms the dead cold earth
Snows melt, much to the mountains’ mirth
Feeding the rivers in the valleys below
That have shrunk to their own beds low
Naked deciduous trees get studded with buds
As their long dormancy with life floods
Birds sing dozens of courtship songs melodious
At the hope of food and shelter copious
Yaks greedily graze on soft green grasses again
For their lost body weights they must quickly regain
From a distance a flock of Blue Sheep watches
Enviously as the valley’s pasture turns into patches
Children spend long hours in the sun
With their playmates having fun
Elders begin to break their backs in the fields
Singing hopeful songs of their crops’ good yields