Henriette Hardenberg...1918...

Southern Heart

Blossom sits deeply,
Mountaintips bend themselves into shape,
Wind lies calmly,
The tree stands rigidly.

Then suddenly, comes into bloom
Right into the middle of the heart
Burning, you are sitting in my tree.

Nowhere inside me is calm,
I cry out from within the flames,
an ocean is moving all over.

Then they,too,are twitching,
Blossom and tree,
Already red from being so sweet.