Spring comes quickly: overnight the plum tree blossoms, the warm air fills with bird calls. In the plowed dirt, someone has drawn a picture of         the sun with rays coming out all around but because the background is dirt, the sun is black. There is no signature. Alas, very soon everything will disappear: the bird calls, the delicate blossoms. In the end, even the earth itself will follow the artist’s name into         oblivion. Nevertheless, the artist intends a mood of celebration. How beautiful the blossoms are — emblems of the         resilience of life. The birds approach eagerly.