Now country life has become a dream:
The early mornings and the late evenings
are bright with light,
and the sky is wonderfully transparent
through these hours of the heat.
The wheat is as it should be:
straw-blond.
In the evening,
a golden shimmer rests upon its fields,
while at dawn
the valley lies before me,
rich and full.
Well-nourished trees
cast their shade upon the blades of grass
as they sway gently in the morning breeze.
Without a word, they bow before me,
silver with the wisdom of ripeness.
Their withering is near,
yet nothing is ever gone —
rebirth is always there.
Some call it stray plants weed;
others call it a blessing of nature.
Everything is fulfilled,
reaching toward the harvest.
The earth is permeated with warmth.
And so am I,
with my new book.
