This fresh breeze of spring suggests, that I am nearly home.
Squirrel, busy with her nut, is bidding me good morn.
Chilling winds of north are dull now, clouds are almost gone.
Grass is greener in the plains.
Oh, I am nearly home.

I have waited for a year to see your sparkling eyes.
But I’ll be with you even before this teardrop dries.
You must have been crying too, but farewell to hard times.
Wait for me a moment more
now, I am nearly home.


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