Southern Heart

We present this work in honor of the poet’s 125th birthday.

Henriette Hardenberg
1894 – 1993


Blossom deep down,
mountain tops swaying,
wind stretched out in rest,
the tree stands frozen.

Then suddenly a flowering,
and in my heart’s center
you burn in me, tree.

Nowhere is there rest in me,
I cry out in flames,
a sea swelling in all things.

Then they too – blossom and
tree – twitch, having
already reddened with sweetness.

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