When I was young I lived a constant storm,
Though now and then the brilliant suns shot through,
So in my garden few red fruits were born,
The rain and thunder had so much to do.
Now are the autumn days of thought at hand,
And I must use the rake and spade to groom,
Rebund and cultivate the washed-out land
The water had eroded deep as tombs.
And who knows if the flowers in my mind
In this poor sand, swept like a beach, will find
The food of soul to gain a healthy start?
I cry! I cry! Life feeds the seasons' maw
And that dark Enemy who gnaws our hearts
Battens on blood that drips into his jaws!
Přeložil James McGowan