Immersed into the waters, <br />washed, <br />and soaked <br />down to the fibres <br />of the heart <br />by the Deluge. <br /> <br />The wish <br />to occupy the land <br />this side of tear-filled borders <br />is of no use. <br /> <br />The wish to celebrate <br />the bloom of Spring <br />and to be spared <br />is of no use. <br /> <br />Of use is just the hope <br />that she, de Dove <br />will bring <br />the olive branch. <br /> <br />And that the fruit <br />be colourful <br />just as its blossoms. <br /> <br />That still its leaves <br />make up a shining crown <br />upon the earth. <br /> <br />And that we shall be freed, <br />released from the Deluge <br />and from the Lion's den. <br /> <br />Be sent, <br />as hurt and healed <br />into the custody of self. <br />In perpetuity.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/translation-poem-by-hilde-domin-bitte/
