POETRY

Ik dreamde my in tún

Ik dreamde my in tún fan dy en my
dy’t djip en fredich wie, mei lange skaden
Stokroas en himellof, fioeltsjes lâns de paden,
ik wie dêr faak, want do wiest tichteby.

Sliepdronken flear, heldhaftich yn syn striid,
lêste bewiis fan dwylsin en fan dreamen.
Hiel even mar en amper te beneamen,
rûkte ik soms in lang fergetten tiid.

En tsjin de hjerst, foar ‘t earste giel en brún
hiene wy bliid de ripe fruchten garre.
Yn reiden kuorren ha wy se bewarre,

sa wurken wy tegearre yn ús tún.
Kin men it libben mei in dream beswarre?
Finzen yn eigen ritme wurdt de seine harre.

 

I dreamed up a garden

I dreamed up a garden just for me and you,
it was peaceful and shady, the sun hanging low,
a path lined with violets; hollyhocks and willows,
I was there often because you were there too.

Staggering elder, brimming with courage,
the last evidence of delirium and dreams.
Sometimes for a moment, barely seen,
I caught glimpses of a forgotten age.

And as autumn advanced and the leaves changed hue,
we gathered our ripe fruit with glee
and stored it in wicker baskets carefully.

And so we laboured on in our garden for two.
Is it possible to dismiss life with a dream?
Caught in its own rhythm, let the scythe gleam.

Translation: Michele Hutchinson