Lajos Aprily
She went to the garden
Oh God, I can not imagine your garden
Your flowers and lawn
I don’t know how they are done.
I only know one early morning of June
With her painful heart and sore legs
My Mother went out to my garden
Oh God, she was filled with fears
Many shadows haunted her.
But still with her worn tender hands
She wanted to weed my garden
Her lithe body always been in move
I don’t believe she like to sit now,
Please in your garden don’t make her idle
That would torture her soul,
Please in your field don’t keep only flowers
For her sake sow some weeds around
And she can take care of your lilies and asphodels.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem