Gelfusa / BIO
On the mountain that always defeated me
I learned to love lemons.
I cut them in wet jewel slices.
In the sun, they were stained glass in my cup.
I rubbed the shiny leaf
the yellow-green smell was on my fingers
I made such a fuss
that people gave me bags of lemons
from their trees–
I was rich!
I carried them in my suitcase
from the mountain to the city,
packed them in that tiny fridge.
On the last day
I left them to the nuns
who were glad to have them,
Those lemons without bitterness.