poetry
Trees
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But …
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…Baum reizend ist.
Ein Baum dessen hungrige Öffnung gegen die süsse flüssige Brust der
Masse prest ist;
Ein Baum, der Gott aller Tag betrachtet und hebt ihre belaubten Arme
an, um zu beten;
Ein Baum, der im Nest der Sommerabnutzung A von Robins in ihrem Haar
kann;
Nach, wem Bosomschnee gelegen ist; Wer vertraut mit Regen lebt.
Gedichte werden von den Dummköpfen wie mir gebildet, aber nur Gott
kann einen Baum bilden.
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