In the spring tide of our dreams

When the frog awakes from his numbness

Peeps from the bottom of a mouldy water-lily

Lets himself float to the surface of the pond

And breaks through the mirror

When the chirping of the lark announces dawn

The weavers and waxbills chime in velvety

The woodpecker knocks for attention

The cock blows the trumpet

And his majesty all wrapped up in a purple gown

Ascend the celestial throne

When the brimstone butterfly unfolds his flimsy pinions

The air flutters around them tenderly

The wing stroke collects the sunbeams golden

And the choir of dragonflies and bees

Hum und buzz to it

When the sleep, companion of the cold darkness,

Flooded and soaked by the shower of warm light

Trickles down from the esprit of life

When all that arises again what retreated from the cold

Out of old new is born

Within the new approved continues

Entwines itself with something else: with hope

When we cyclically encounter each other afresh

We sprout from what we have sown

Put forth leaves and blossoms

And your eye dresses me grass green

When, what we illustrated and invented

Develops into reality

Yes then, then we are

In the spring tide of our dreams.