This poems was written for my love, Annette. Her favorite lake is the lake of Hallwil in Switzerland.

The down of the swan's bow dances waxen
on the soft water surface,
indulges in ease,
unable to think of the next tempest.

Emerald dragonflies carve jags into the silky air,
twitching into the small inlets,
whirring on the spot during the next breath.
Their copper-colored abdomen is laced up
like the waistline of a female motorcyclist
wrapped in leather.


The corpses of last and distant years' leaves
rest on the lake's muddy floor,
lost in growing old, blacking on,
bordered by dusky beechnuts.

The water sprinkles upon the cheeks,
plays and washes against its swimmers,
around the rush stalks ascending
over-slenderly from the depth
and the precious butter balls
of the flowering nuphars.