The catkin
is the jewel
of the tree.
It’s shedding
its gushing
soul.
It’s calling
the lazy flight
of hungry bees.
It gives away
its sweet utero;
Its soul –
sitting still –
dances
bridal dance
in this
give-it-take-it
game
with the
unfaithful kisses
of the bees.
The tree
is singing.
Every catkin
is laughing
at the sun
and jingling
immortaly
in the April wind.
It gives and accepts
everything, that
God offers,
for what God
has created
in it