All night long, nightingales whistled songs to us,
Town was silent, and wind was so mild.
White acacia’s clusters, fragrant and luscious,
All night long, seemed to make us go wild.
The whole garden was washed with spring showers,
Water from ravines spilled onto walkways.
Oh God, we were so naïve in those hours,
We were amazingly young in those days!
Years have rushed by, turning our hair into gray…
Where is the purity of those branches of life?
Only this winter with its snowflakes’ white ballet
Reminds us of those, keeping story alive.
And in the hour, when raging winds are violent,
With renewed vigor, I’ve attained the truth:
White acacia’s clusters-- fragrant and succulent--
Are irretrievable, just like my youth!