Translation of ‘Traum’ by Hermann Hesse
It is always the same dream:
A red-blossoming chestnut tree,
A garden, a riot of summer blooms,
Behind an old house with empty rooms.
There, in the garden’s quiet calm
My mother rocked me in her arms;
Perhaps – it is so long ago –
Garden, house and tree are gone.
Perhaps there is a meadow path,
Over which plough and harrow passed.
Of homeland, garden, house and tree,
Nothing remains but a dream.
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