On a day that drizzled
warm and mild,
I felt — — on my chin,
I felt — — on my cheek,
not a beard
but the first grass sprouting.
— — Then it's found the proper spot! — — I fretted, and tried
to avoid the passers-by.

Then, just as I was about to pass underground,
very gently someone took me by the arm:
"How foolish you are!
Where else should the grass in the city sprout, when it must
— — on stone?"

A glance: on his cheek
also flourished
mild grass
and the first anemones budded...

It was spring in the city.