In Grandfather's Yard
I cling to time with burning hands,
With tearful, gentle, well-behaved eyes.
Some thoughts carry me ever forward,
Another thought turns back, then, into my mind...
He used to lift me with his gnarled hands,
His fingers clenched and thick.
He laughed with a laughter so catching,
That today it fills me once more with longing...
He raised me up toward the sun, on high,
Giving my feet a swing.
Like a pendulum I swayed
Back, and forth... then I would stop!
All at once my soul, at a gallop,
Took fright and shied away:
How will I ever get down now?
Even my mind seemed to halt.
Glancing a little behind me,
Twisting only to one side,
He was forever still there,
Smiling just like a child,
Pure of heart and fragile,
Holding his palms open wide
Beneath my burning soles.
And his arms would catch me
So gently, that now it hurts...
Now I would lift him up too...
But I am no God
And it would not be fair, for he would deserve
At least to be caught by my hand,
At least to be caught, should he fall...
To catch with my little finger
His own withered finger,
And, clasped together, forming an infinity,
To look at each other, saying so much.
Only with warm eyes and a smile
That means: thank you, from the bottom of my heart!