Foxgloves [Swedish translation]

Your heart was handed over

to the foxgloves one hot summer afternoon.

The snowsilk buds nodded and hung drowsy.

So the stalks believed

As they held those buds above.

In deep wells of white

The dark fox fingers go in these gloves.

In a slow fold of summer

Your heart was handed over in a curve

from bud to bloom.

• Artist:Carl Sandburg