The old pear tree points naked to the sky.
The wild plum tree is completely savage.
The grass to the waist hisses
Harvest songs darken in the barn.
And the speechless persons swallow up tongues,
sadness and pain – to indifference.
The bees have been disappeared somewhere,
as in a desert destiny.
There is a dusk over dead fields.
And an omen over the holy crucifix.
The old pear tree?
Does God show us the Heavens?
The earth is sick and barren.
Alien pears are bitter on the palate.
It withers, it withers the soul like the pear tree.