violet flowers fill the meadows,
the sun brightens everything,
sadness is now at an end!
Summer returns, now withdraw
the rigors of winter. Ah!
Now melts and disappears
ice, snow and the rest,winter flees,
and now spring sucks
at summer's breast:
a wretched soul is he
who does not live or lust
under summer's rule. Ah!
They glory and
rejoice
in honeyed sweetnesswho strive to make use of
Cupid's prize;
at Venus' command
let us glory and rejoice
in being Paris' equals. Ah!
Carmina Burana
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