Life in June
Around me everything’s loudly alive
the farmer on his mower, bleating sheep
in the maple a blackcap calling
for its mate, from the depths of flowers
the droning of a bee.
And I’m also alive but have to say so myself
for nothing of all I observe mentions me.
As you can talk with friends about past times:
We were on the beach, in a tent, perfectly happy –
then the question: were you there too?
So I’m alone in the garden in the world
and around me everything breathes and inside
sits a man. This then is life, he writes,
this morning in June, the blackcap singing
and her in the garden.