Here is the elm whose shadow

Here is the elm whose shadow

sways on the path;

here is the young briar rose,

the wood where silence sleeps,

and the stone bench where we loved to sit

in the evenings.

Here is the bower

smelling of ebony and lilacs

where we went together, my love,

when we were tired,

to escape the heat

under the garlands of flowers.

The air is pure, the grass is soft.

Nothing has changed except you!