In Memories Of Far Days Poem by Nero CaroZiv

In memories of far days I can hear the summer cuckoo's call.
There the beloved trees would never wear the cloak of snow.
There in the far days in the pine's shade I could hear the blessed of all
My childhood, is brought to life again from long ago.

The pine needles chiming at dusk, a holy sound, once more time
Childhood is my word for distant days of shade and scorching sand,
And the running brook-fettering foam and frogs in a greenish rime
Of my song's language in a such remote time and land.

Perhaps the voyaging birds alone who find
Their own route hanging between the sky and earth,
Know how to find my days of child my land of birth.
These memories of far days brow and sooth my fatigue mind

In you trees and flowers of the field I am renovated anew, my pine.
In you I branched into myself and grew
Where disparate landscapes split one root in two
And I look on words and words in a book of rhyme



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