You are no closer to God than any of us;
we all live far and wide.
But it’s wonderful how your hands
have been sanctified.
They don’t find a match in other
women’s,
so brilliant from beneath their sleeves:
I am the day, I am the dew,
but you are tree.
I am rather tired now, my journey was
long,
forgive that I forgot
that he, who sat in gilded garb
like in a ray of light,
sends news to you, you quiet one
(this room here startled me).
Look: I am the beginning one,
but you are tree.
I spread my wings apart
and become oddly broad;
now your little house is flooded
with my coat.
And still, you are so all alone
as never before, me you hardly see;
because I am just breath in woods,
but you are tree.
All the angels are worried now,
letting go of each other’s hands:
never before was there such a longing,
so uncertain and immense.
Perhaps it will come about soon
and you will grasp it as if in a dream.
Blessings to you, my soul perceives
you are ready and ripe to receive.
You are a great and lofty gate
and about to open up.
You are my song’s most beloved ear.
I feel there disappears and seeps
into you my word.
That’s how I came and completed
your dream among a thousand and one.
And with blinding eyes God looked at me
…
But you are tree.
Oh how beautifully expressed! This poem is such a gift. Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you like it. I do too.
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