Reinhard F. Hahn

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Footprints in the Sand

A Ghazal for Bärbel

Translated from Low Saxon by the author

The path is hard and dark into that once familiar land.
The years, they aren’t anything but footprints in the sand.

On golden autumn days don’t cry for summer meadows lost!
Our childhood castles are long gone, blown out with wind and sand.

The sea’s a friend. No seagull’s cry disturbs the dusky strand.
I turn around and count them all, the footprints in the sand.

My sister has her garden plot beyond the fallow land.
The years, they aren’t anything but footprints in the sand.

She stands there, smiles all sweet and glad. Autumn sun warms her hair.
Her flowers and trees all flourish there in barren heathland’s sand.

My sister opens up her gate, softly, with gentle hand.
The years, they aren’t anything but footprints in the sand.

The nightingale has sung its joy all blissful summer long.
The rambling rose must sense by now frost fall on marsh and sand.

Soon dusk, then night, then dawn, then cock’s cheer wakes the land.
The years, they aren’t anything but footprints in the sand.

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