Speak to Me with Flowers

Uri Assaf

1963

In winter, the rain beat down on the roof.
She said white was her favorite shade.
At hand he then gave her, his heart filled with joy,
A bunch of daffodils, fragrant and moist.
She laughed: “My dear sweet boy,
We shall speak once again in the spring.”
Speak to me with flowers, my love,
Speak to me with flowers.
Spring came. She sought to be…
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