내 이야기

봄이 지고 여름이 피고 -브루클린 보태닉 가든에서

교포아줌마 2017. 7. 11. 22:17






























































































































브루클린 보태닉 가든 일본 정원의 정자에서



열지 않는 월요일만 빼고

거의 매일 길 건너 보태닉 가든에 간다.


잔설을 보면서 드나들었는데

어느 사이

봄이 가고

여름 꽃이 한창이다.




누구에게나 


열리는


공원의 혜택을 흠뻑 누린다.


이곳에 몇년 더 머무른다면


꽃만 보고도 날짜를 아는


꽃달력을 만들 수 있을 것 같은데.




* 사진은 모두 브루클린 보태닉 가든에서 사는 꽃들.



* 바람소리님


보태닉 가든에서 

꽃을 보면서 

더러는

소개해주신 로드 맥큐언의 

노래를 흥얼거린답니다.^^*


안녕하시지요?


조블 시절의 '숲.나무 님'이

바람소리님의 풍경같은 삶의 글들이 

참 그립다고 제 방명록에 남기셨습니다.





이천십칠년

어느 덧 칠월에


교포아줌마



                                         



And to each season

 

-Rod McKuen-


And to each season something is special

lilac, red rose or the white willow.


Young men of fortune old men forgotten

green buds renewing

the brown leaves dead and gone.


Spring and the lilacs

pale white and lavender

fill up the room of my gone mother

And when the cat springs on to the window ledge

his only greeting is the silence and the rain.


And to each season something is special

lilac, red rose or the white willow.

Young men of fortune old men forgotten

green buds renewing

the brown leaves dead and gone.


Deep down in autumn all of the brown leaves

fall on the garden and cover up the lawn.

Let us remember each year in turn then.


When there was sun enough to cover up the wrong.


And to each season something is special

lilac, red rose or white willow.

Young men of fortune old men forgotten

green buds renewing


the brown leaves dead and gone.


Roses in summer climb up the stone wall

playing with sunlight and the morning shadows.

Petals as firm as the young men's striding

pants filled with love hearts filled with longing.


Welcome the winter robed in its whiteness

bending down the willow with it's snow blankets.

And the wild berries hidden in the wood now

from the creatures lost in the darkness.


And to each season something is special

lilac, red rose or the white willow.


Young men of fortune old men forgotten


green buds renewing

the brown leaves dead and gone.

Welcome the winter robed in its whiteness

bending down the willows with its snow blankets.

And all the wild berries hidden in the wood now

from the creatures lost in the darkness.

Old men forgotten leave to me something

for I've no family now but that of man

Tell all the young men passing in the lanes now

soon I'll be coming down to take my place with them.

And to each season something is special

lilac, red rose or the white willow.