Ne ljubim te v podobi zimskega cveta,
krhka je lepota, minljiva, hladna in bela.
Niti kot snežinko, ki se usede na mojo roko,
kot tihi šepet, ki izgine izpred oči.

Moje ljubezni ni zvezala zimska ledena roka,
a vendar izvira živahno, razcvetelo,
je krokus, ki se potiska skozi zamrznjeno zemljo,
razganja temo, preganja zimski mrak.

Ljubim te kot prve nežne spomladanske rože,
ki se na široko odpro k sončnemu žarku, ki dajo življenje,
obljuba je shranjena v tvojem nežnem obrazu.

Obljuba slajših dni in čudovitih letnih časov
in kot ta cvet, ki privablja zaposleno čebelo,
tvoja ljubezen mi obrodi nov sad in življenje.

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Promise of love

I don't love you like a winter bloom,
A fragile beauty, fleeting, cold, and white,
Nor like a snowflake settling on my room,
A silent whisper vanishing from sight.

My love's not bound by winter's icy hand,
But springs forth vibrant, bursting into bloom,
A crocus pushing through the frozen land,
Dispelling darkness, chasing winter's gloom.

I love you like the first spring flower's grace,
That opens wide to sun's life-giving ray,
A promise held within its gentle face,

Of sweeter days and seasons far away.
And like that flower, attracting busy bee,
Your love brings forth new fruit, and life, to me.

Tomaž Jevšenak