The first fruit are already on the branches
where it's in the middle of spring,
while the birds outside do constantly frolic and woo each other
as outside the whole garden is full of joy,
where every new morning does bring an own meaning
while the fruitful sweet juice do form around the pit
as if every insect, bird and pretty flower
comes with a own special discourse over life,
as with beauty and hope and joy the days are full
as if nothing great and lovely is missing,
when days and nights, weeks and months do pass quickly
where feelings in the heart do gather,
everything lives to God as a small witness
that He will come again and that everything will stop in a mere moment.
© Gert Strydom
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem