may and me

fortunately it is may and i know the poem may (1886-1889) from herman gorter by the heart. i possess an old edition (1929) in scarlet-red linen cover. he is one of my favorite poets. one may has to be celebrated because it is not only the day of labour but also the beginning of the spring. thus spring with me together in my poem:

ah! he looks around compassionate at the fresh green sprigs sprouted from the spring, that has to bud in a foliage of variegated colors, a medley of sounds and fragancy. in the field lays dived away all in all two lovers wedged between their arms so firmly that the air seems to tremble, so intense it was that balder held his beloved may in his arms. birds in the sky fligh away from the air on wich the sun shined, twittering their merry songs, where commotion was coming, so intense was the kiss, that sounded around and like a breese propagated over the fragrant meadows and the green foliage, where the birds dances around till the fresh born morning. the sheep in the fields heared their sigh and looked at the sky that was full of living melodies by introducing the new spring. yes, so has to sound the song i love.

the child of may was newborn and balder ran lost musing and gay, listening to the splashed murmur of the silver river, where he seems to take part for a minute with the whitthy foamy waves, that covers the brook here and there. there leaked some droplets from the bank back into the banklet that looks so pretty and covers his feet with wet shining shim of humid moist. birds in the sky glided on and off in graceful flight to the brush-wood on the riverbank, in twittering song full of notes moulded in sunny shine. may looked with soft glance in her eyes at balder in the far distance, where the playful murmur of the brooklet and the tweeting song of the birds enclosed them. the lambs in the fields played frisky and happy, the bleating was heard till late in the evening as a short series of egophonias on the rim, so so slide away the one of that may.