SUNDAY AFTERNOON WALK

along the Weser, we started fresh and on the path it became warmer and warmer. Before we turned back we lay in the grass, Piet Hein, Mischa and I.
The lovely wilf flower field was mowed, the crickets still chirped in the stubbles, and the butterflies were busy as usual. A lot of people on bike, walking, on the river in canoes, a small air plane high in the air.
I almost forgot about my poem (the heat responsible?) Yesterday it was from Aragon Les lilas et les roses, heartbreaking about the war II and for today I shall read a poem of Eugenio Montale.

The haiku:

Shelter under twigs
No sign of silly laughter
When will it start again?

And the proverb is from Goethe:

The deed is everything, the glory naught.