My mother was a deer once
the golden brown eyes
the grace
remained with her from her time as deer

Here she was
half angel half human-
the middle was mother
When I asked her what she would have liked to become
she said: a nightingale

Now she is a nightingale
Night after night I listen to her
in the garden of my sleepless dream
She sings the ancestor's Zion
she sings the old Austria
she sings the mountains and the beech groves
of Bucovina
Lullabies
she sings to me night after night
my nightingale
in the garden of my sleepless dream