That summer smelled of haying time
And scythes were shining in the dew.
You carried water to us barefoot
From the well for me first.
I drank without looking at you
Because on the haystack
There she was—a red-haired girl, as if from the sky, joyful, wild, like spring itself.
You gave me water to drink, cold from your warm hands.
While
I, looking at the one on the stack, laughed across the whole meadow.
I thought water was just water, but it was your love, and
I wanted someone else's beauty.
I am still thirsty, like the earth.
The redhead left for the city with another, and
I followed after.
The water there flowed from a tap, clean and clear.
Years passed, and the empty house called me back.
And scythes were shining in the dew.
You carried water to us barefoot
From the well for me first.
I drank without looking at you
Because on the haystack
There she was—a red-haired girl, as if from the sky, joyful, wild, like spring itself.
You gave me water to drink, cold from your warm hands.
While
I, looking at the one on the stack, laughed across the whole meadow.
I thought water was just water, but it was your love, and
I wanted someone else's beauty.
I am still thirsty, like the earth.
The redhead left for the city with another, and
I followed after.
The water there flowed from a tap, clean and clear.
Years passed, and the empty house called me back.