C1947 It Should be the Immortals in the Heavens

"The spring breeze fails to clear the southern rain,

I watch with amusement as people seek shelter in the rain-soaked lanes.

Who would have thought the south lacks the spirit of intoxication,

Yet the scent of spring carries for miles on the wind."

Gazing out at the misty rain, the middle-aged man gently swirled his wine glass