I could be happy in that quiet place.
The midday garden
Near the vineyard
Is calling me again
And, in a solemn voice,
Compels me and my burden forward
Slowly across the heavy miles
I could be resting in the evening sun
That lights my canvas
And guides my lazy brush
On petal, sky and vine
Where I could be, where I should be
Comforted by a sea of flowers, seduced by colours
And I could go forward
Across the heavy miles
Only this burden wearies me.
Beyond the heavy miles
My vineyard, sun and flowers are free
The midday garden,
Sleepy near the vines,
Whispers to me again
And, in a softer voice, insists
I should be resting in the evening sun
I could be happy in that quiet place
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem