This little summer garden
where we used to meet,
fragrant with wild flowers
when wise bees gathered ...
A little secret path,ran along
the peaceful river ,leading us
to our palace ,
The beautiful Moldau accomplice
to our oaths ...
Your hair ,aniseed -scent forest
cascading down my shoulder ...
I was this tender navigator
in search of your secret coves ...
Is the sweetness of life only the instant
of a brief illusion,before the wise foragers
suddenly become furious ?
Locusts tore Lidice\'s soul apart ,
down to the deepest roots ...
In the morning ,a train was waiting
for you at Prague station ,
to the east ever further away ....
The dust of our bodies ,
drifting to the calm flow of Moldau ...
Others won\'t write the script of a love
in this little summer garden before lidice...