Trafika Europe 1 - Northern Idyll

At the solstice hour People dressed in wood Lure into their leafage Birds without faces. The wandering stream Drags towards the shores Its memories of snow.

My sylvan trees Have reddened with summer’s first day.

The men from the town Said that was rust Blown in from Japan.

But they don’t know That the trees in this coomb In their deepest secret roots

Stroke living stones That start to dream

That the wind and the rain Will take them naked on clay At the solstice hour.


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