Clara strolled in the garden with the children.
The sky was green over the grass,
the water was golden under the bridges,
other elements were blue and rose and orange,
a policeman smiled, bicycles passed,
a girl stepped onto the lawn to catch a bird,
the whole world--Germany, China--
all was quiet around Clara.
The children looked at the sky: it was not forbidden.
Mouth, nose, eyes were open. There was no danger.
What Clara feared were the flu, the heat, the insects.
Clara feared missing the eleven o'clock trolley:
She waited for letters slow to arrive,
She couldn't always wear a new dress. But she strolled in the garden,
in the morning!
They had gardens, they had mornings in those days!
If you aren't a brazilian guy or lade, this is a most big poet of Brazil and whith Fernando Pessoa, the most big poet in Portuguese Language! Enjoy Carlos Drummond de Andrade (CDA)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
There is still a garden for Clara.