Obscure Marsh

An old saw that cannot hurt any more.
My Marsh of the Bridge, beloved Marsh.
An evening in full spring, before that bloom the Locust-tree.

Deep water, motionless and dark; mirror for dreams and thoughts, each morning for over 11 years
I have stayed at least a moment to look at you.
Those trees lying at the bottom of the Marsh, they are like a forbidden desire.
I cannot reach them; they live beyond the impassable limit of the Natural Reserve.
I never will see them close; nobody can.
That is why you see their reflection through the deep dark water… saved from the saw.