MAY (Karel Hynek Mácha)

Late evening, on the first of May—The twilit May—the time of love.
Meltingly called the turtle-dove, Where rich and sweet pinewoods lay.
Whispered of love the mosses frail, The flowering tree as sweetly lied,
The rose's fragrant sigh replied To love-songs of the nightingale.
In shadowy woods the burnished lake Darkly complained a secret pain,
By circling shores embraced again; And heaven's clear sun leaned down to take A road astray in azure deeps, Like burning tears the lover weeps. ...

Sakura blooming all around us   (Photo in block head - Click mouse for zoomed)

..... all here, including the continuation