A gardening poem

 

Having read
just now
that gardening poems
have a long tradition, 
here’s mine:

My wife’s thumb
is much greener
than mine, which
is why the gardening
is her doing alone

– Iself (© 2022)

Photo by Nils Stahl on Unsplash

René Schickele – The boy in the garden

The boy in the garden

I want to put my bare hands together
and make them sink hard
as evening falls, as if they were lovers.
May bells ring at dusk,
and white veils of scent descend upon us,
as we are close together, listening to our flowers.
Tulips shine through the last glow of the day,
lilac blossoms spring from the bushes,
a bright rose melts on the ground...
We're all fond of each other.
Outside, through the blue night, we hear the muted striking of the hours.

– René Schickele (1883-1940)

English translation by Johannes Beilharz (© 2020).

German original | Other poems by René Schickele in English