The Coming of Spring

The age of beauty is over.
The time of yellow sickness has come.
A rain of death has come forth,
flowing through my nose, and pelting my eyes.

I mustn't leave the safety of my home,
until the storm is over.
Oh, how I long for those days of frost and snow,
those days of red and green. But nay, that is behind me now.

All that awaits is a time of heat and illness.
Even when the rain of death ends,
the sun will blaze upon my back,
burning my skin and blinding my eyes.

As I forever search for the fair maiden of winter.