The Clearing - Francisca Stoecklin

I think of you. I think of our hours of love
That we spent, so sweetly, in the wooded depths..
On damp leaves, past earnest firs,
Beech, brown mushrooms on hardly trodden
Paths, we came to a clearing.
The sky opened, suddenly bright, above us.
You exclaimed, "How beautiful that is"! The sun shone softly,
Caught dark trees within its gold
And the bright green of raspberry bushes
From which we plucked ripe fruit
That, laughing, we held to the other's lips.

Then we sank in raptures upon soft moss.
Your head leaning, gently, upon my shoulder,
You held my hand. The old fir trees rustled
Solemnly. And, from out of the thicket,
Stepped a deer… that stayed a long while listening.

Then, we looked more deeply into our eyes
That had the clear blue of heaven.
We spoke of nothing, hardly thinking,
Aware of only the eternity of the moment
And of the nearness of our souls.

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Francisca Stoecklin (1894 - 1931) Switzerland
Translated by David Paley
Source: Poems without Frontiers