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The reassuring ray of the sun
Breaks through the birch trees.
You stop chewing your bread
With Schwarzwälder speck,
Listen to the birds twittering and chirping,
Singing hymns to the sunrise,
On your spacious terrace.
After the long, icy winter
You enjoy the warmth
Of the glorious lamp of Heaven.
Out in the East,
Below the blue hills,
Where Stegen,
Buchenbach, Oberried
Are nestled,
You discern the sound of cars
Whizzing by like a swarm of hornets.
In the early morning
You’re entranced
By the blue titmice,
Kohlmeise and field sparrows,
Busily chirping and picking
At the sun-flower seeds,
You’ve strewn in the garden
And bird house,
Which dangles from a metal arch,
Where the steps begin.
A flurrying of wings,
Causes the two hares to scurry,
Take refuge on the cobbled terrace,
A warning that the fat cat from the neighbourhood
Is on the prowl in the undergrowth.
As you gaze up on the slope,
You see the sleek Fingerhut (digitalis)
Reaching out for the sun in light-blue glory.
The oval table is decorated
With a flowery cloth.
The aroma of the coffee
Reaches your nostrils,
Mixed with the aromatic smell
Of the Moroccan pepermint.
Glossary:
Fingerhut: digitalis
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