There is a poem at my heart's tongue

There is a poem at my heart's tongue.
What can I say when words won't do;
a painting maybe? But I cannot paint.

I still can see the green slopes of the park,
the smooth green slopes, bathed by the summer sun;
it was a paradise for love like ours,
a love like Adam and Eve never knew.
The dogs, the children and the one big tree,
you and the child - our child maybe?

The smooth, green hills - and then again the heath,
its purple roughness, scattered with clumsy trees,
like thorn trees in a desert; and the sun
shone on the shy beginnings of our passion,
which corresponded to the scenery.

The heath, so many associations,
so many loves, so many passions,
and so much bright tenderness.

Cinda Okkersen 17th September 1971