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