As lifeblood drains and dries in aged veins,
as breaths become compressed in heaving breasts,
when racing steps slow down to stumbled strains,
can aching hearts respond to love’s requests?
As sturdy oaks dry up each year in sleep,
leaves, trampled dead mementos that abound,
with branches drooping, bark encircling, deep
distressed, lie caskets strewn upon the ground.
Each Spring the beat of Nature’s loving hearts
awakens lifeless creatures, nectar, sweet,
recoursing though their souls as death departs
to let love live and let new lovers meet.
You are the Spring that keeps new life in me
As I, your love, remain your oaken tree.
How can one know one oak from the other if it hides beneath it's dark limbs and tricky leaves? An oak can provide safety but can also crush those spirits underneath who live in fear already. Let sunlight in on doubt and life will grow
The theme through this one is so well-hone (smile) that it sits on the page like a complete entity, speaking its one singular thought, that of age still accompanied by a steadfast heart; perhaps some degrees less exciting than writing about two young things, panting after one another; but also more restful and mature and calm..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like that an oak tree awakens to Spring like a lover's presence causing blooming, coming alive, etc.