L'aura del Campo

Achter de geraniums zitten [315]

Achter de geraniums zitten

Sitting behind the geraniums
I watch snow flake down from white
skies of silence, hit warm pavement
turn to slush. In the hush of a Sunday
morning little moves when the Spirit 's
this calm. The flag barely flutters.

Without a breeze I can't hear
your voice floating from the east;
veiled by this deathly white,
can't see the Dawn. In ghostly twilight
I vent to the Void: Send me a
message that warms my needs,
caresses my petals come Spring.

© Kåre Enga [175.315] (20.january.2019 revision 28.jan)


ORIGINAL

Achter de geraniums zitten

Sitt'n' b'hind th' geraniums
I watch snow flake down from white
skies of sil'nce, hit warm pavem'nt
turn to slush in th' hush of a Sund'y
morn'n'. Little moves when th' Spirit 's
this calm. Th' flag barely flutt'rs.
Without a breeze I can't hear
your voice floatin' from th' east,
veiled by this deathly white,
can't see th' Dawn. In ghostly twilight
I vent t' th' Void: Send me a
mess'ge that warms my needs,
melts my petals come Springtime.

© Kåre Enga [175.315] (20.january.2019)

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