Few can stay calm when nature springs back to life after the long bleak winter cold that breeds melancholy and glum. Buds appear and leaves begin to clothe the naked branches with an explosion of luxuriant green. It is hard when the departure of winter heralds the return of nature in its splendor and glory to ignore the excitement and joy building all around, inviting everyone to be outgoing.

Liem seems to be reserved, a bit subdued and dreamy. Instead of getting out among blooming garden plants to hear the birds, he sits by his window, dreaming and writing poems, even dozing off. His heart brims with all kinds of confused feelings that he does not care to sort out. In his solitary retreat of sorts, he tries to console himself by exhorting his heart to join in the celebration of nature's rebirth.

But lurking not too far below the surface, love is still missing in the merry landscape and the unfolding gaiety has yet to reach behind the blue window where he stays holed up in self-exile.

While his exhortations sound genuine, they bear the mark of restraint and not of spontaneous abandon. He urges his heart to jump with elation, but he doesn't. He wants his heart to soar, but he does not appear ebullient and light-hearted enough to soar with it.

Somehow this poem conveys a sense of nostalgia, resignation and loneliness. Liem could not quite reconcile the seizing of the moment that he advocates and a vague pervasive anxiety that prohibits unfettered rejoicing.