When our mulberry trees bloom
Their smell often floats
Through my window . . .
Especially in the evening and after rain.
The trees are around the street comer,
A couple of minutes away.
In the summertime, when I would run
Up to their hanging branches,
Noisy blackbirds had already picked
The dark fruit. When I stand under those trees and breathe in
Their rich smell,
Life suddenly seems to collapse around me,
A strange luxurious feeling,
As if evoked by the touch of a woman's hand. ...
Seifert, Jaroslav - Casting of Bells (Spirit That Moves Us, 1984)
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