Päronträdet (My pear tree)

Outside my window there’s a pear tree,
bees are softly humming in its flowers.
Inside my window the sun shines warm
through green leaves and thin curtains.
Here I am with my gaze from my house.
Deep down there I can see the marshland glittering.
The forest is so close to me with its murmuring,
but I am thinking in the blue tones of the hills.

Behind the grey stone wall of the old house
someone is clenching his fists.
Behind the grey wall of the closed room
someone is pressing his lips together.
Someone waiting to leave from here
is listening for messages in the wind.
Just think that the bright spring became so short -
soon, with flowers, it will be brought through the gate.

From the veranda we followed, out towards the road,
all our life and thought that we were dreaming.
The vine turned red like blood in the end
in an evening light we never could forget.
Although I know my garden will be empty forever,
I can still hear the steps on the gravel.
I can still see my pear tree there in bloom -
green tendrils growing towards the light.