Would your soft cooing
Each morning in the chestnut tree
Be for me, russet dove?

No! I’d be crazy to think so!
Your song is a hymn
To the One who gave you
That nostalgic voice.

Your soft cooing
Is a dawn-song to your loving mate
And to your baby birds
And to all your winged friends.

…Who would sing for me?
An old woman without relative or mate!
Yet my heart is brimming with songs
For I love every Creature.

June 1967.

Translated by Lenora Timm

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