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    Zuzanna Ginczanka

    Uploaded by

    massimozu
    The poem celebrates mothers gathering cherries and other fruits during a hot summer. It describes peasant girls daydreaming and the ripeness of trees, rye, and fruits in the orchards and gardens, transformed by the warmth of the sun.

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    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as RTF, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd

    Zuzanna Ginczanka

    Uploaded by

    massimozu
    82 views1 page
    The poem celebrates mothers gathering cherries and other fruits during a hot summer. It describes peasant girls daydreaming and the ripeness of trees, rye, and fruits in the orchards and gardens, transformed by the warmth of the sun.

    Original Description:

    Beautiful Poem by Zuzanna Ginczanka

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    © © All Rights Reserved

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    The poem celebrates mothers gathering cherries and other fruits during a hot summer. It describes peasant girls daydreaming and the ripeness of trees, rye, and fruits in the orchards and gardens, transformed by the warmth of the sun.

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as RTF, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Download as rtf, pdf, or txt
    82 views1 page

    Zuzanna Ginczanka

    Uploaded by

    massimozu
    The poem celebrates mothers gathering cherries and other fruits during a hot summer. It describes peasant girls daydreaming and the ripeness of trees, rye, and fruits in the orchards and gardens, transformed by the warmth of the sun.

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as RTF, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Download as rtf, pdf, or txt
    of 1

    O pale-faced mothers of rosy-cheeked children;

    O fertile, proud, happy mothers


    You'll go to gather cherries' juiciness with hands smooth
    from children's caresses
    You'll go to celebrate the hot August weather of hearts as
    ripe as ears of rye
    You'll go to venerate with your bare feet the black and
    swollen fertile soil
    I've seen the lips, like fresh fruit's flesh, of lazy
    daydreaming peasant girls
    In clanging warmth of dreamy gardens nostalgia sleeps in
    spiders webs
    Boughs in the orchards are full of fresh juices that give
    sudden smell of ripeness
    You'll go to gather golden aroma of warm trees' resin into
    your nostrils
    In mellow, windy and sunny middays go and proclaim
    sacred birthgiving
    Look at the rye leaves shining in sunlight, our daily bread
    of joyful summers
    You may praise the passing blossom that turns into
    ripening fruits
    Everything passes, nothing ends here, in the transforming
    warmth of the sun
    At night you'll take the willow baskets so you can fill them
    with endless dreams
    Go to celebrate red apple pickings and go to harvest
    ripeness of dreams
    The moon is hanging in pear-tree branches like a golden
    boat on a Christmas tree
    Lips of raspberries won't whisper legends about the hearts
    that bled at night.
    Zuzanna Ginczanka

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