|In the garden|
In the garden I look up from my book
and see the confidence of bees
entering the flower
of a Himalayan balsam,
now and then bumping into seed-cases
that, silently exploding,
spread their well-aimed black seed.
Insecure I start reading again.
I did plant a little tree
when I turned sixty,
hoping that it would get enough light and some air
between the trees that were already there
in a time before I existed.
In its shadow children will not know
who, with spade, manure and water
briefly worked here with the soil.
|Original title: In de tuin From: 'De wimpers van de dageraad' - Uitgeverij De Arbeiderspers, Amsterdam - 1987. Translation: Hans van den Bos|