Is there an Eden somewhere,
where flowers stand in glory
or did it perish into the naught
or do we rather have to be silent
about that place and is it nowhere
to admonish man against sin?
Or does God still have His eyes on it
to give it again
to the residents of a new earth
as a place of joy without anguish
where fruit constantly hangs ripe,
where people will walk on glorious tracks,
will be able to live to the satisfaction of each heart
with eternal joyous bird song?
[Reference: Eden by Ina Rousseau.]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem