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The Willow
There is no greater sight to see
Than the gardens here at Giverny.
Where flowers line each graveled path,
And light touches every corner,
Where water lilies dance
Under the bridge across the pond.
Here, the only one who ever weeps
Is the willow
Bending over the shore.
But now, I see them differently than before,
When covered by the shadow of war.
The light fades into black,
With the spirit of my country.
Even the water lilies do not dance
Under the bridge across the pond.
And for those fallen, I, too, weep
With the willow
Bending over the shore.

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