Bertol Brecht

On that day in the blue moon of September

Quietly under a young plum tree

Is where I held her, the still pale love

In my arm like a lovely dream.

And above us in the beautiful summer sky

was a cloud, which I saw for a long time

It was very white and immensely high

And when I looked up, it was never more.

Since that day many, many moons have

Quietly swum down and past.

The plum trees probably have been chopped off

And you ask me, how is it with the love?

So I tell you: I cannot remember.

And yet, sure, I do know what you mean

But her face, I really do not know it anymore

I only still know: I once kissed it.

Even the kiss, I would have forgotten it long ago

had the cloud not been there

That I still know and will I always know

Very white it was and came from above.

Perhaps the plum trees are still flowering

And that women now perhaps has her seventh child

But that cloud blossomed only for minutes

And when I looked up, it already was disappearing in the wind.

... Memory of Marie A, Bertol Brecht

this is a translation from German