Na samem.
Drevesa v ravnih vrstah.
Trava vedno zelena.

Moja pot
se vije med drevesi.
Sneg je pobralo,
na travi je nekaj
lanskega listja,
kot pokrivalo
ostalo.

Vejico
zaspanega drevesa
primem v dlan.
Prvi popki novega listja
že poganjajo
v novo pomlad.

Gregorjevo je tu,
sneg bo še prišel
»kot beračev gnoj«,
a ne bo obstal.

Nov cvet bo
novo življenje
pognal.
In kolesje se bo
spet zavrtelo.

-------------------------------------------

In the garden,
I find my solace
the trees, in perfect rows
the grass is always green

My path meanders
through the foliage.
Last year's leaves,
a blanket on the ground
as nature covers up its past

A lone tree stands,
asleep
I gently hold a branch
in my hand.
New buds peeking out,
promising,
the arrival of a fresh spring

Today is st. Gregory's day.
Snow like »beggar's dung«
will come again
I know it will not linger.

For soon,
a new flower will bloom.
Life will burst
forth in a vibrant display.
And the cycle will continue
In this ever-spinning garden.

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