Youth, Still?

Between wheat-field and corn,
Between hedgerow and thorn,
Between tundra and savannah,
Where’s my lost youth?
Tell it me, Good Madams! 

And now within itself the truth’s imprisoned
As if it had never opened out: unknown
Those blessed moments, when it shone
As bright as the angelic galaxy lovingly shown
And remorse, reproach, and irritation, frown
Weigh it down beneath the oppressive air.

Isn’t the world here still? Are the mountain heights
No longer crowned with all their magnificent shadows?
Doesn’t long-wait autumn brings abundance? The countryside
Still lies green grass and fields, where kids running wild?
And doesn’t the overarching rainbows fill
With radiant hues, casting itself, still?

And if truth is eternal, she must be still somewhere,
Maybe flowing down the river, dancing above the clouds.
Hiding somewhere between heaven and earth?
Unrelenting, I’m looking for my youth everywhere,
How I’ve longed for that child to tell my truth.
In vain, she has lost! If not murdered completely.

Still, I dreamed of her coming back to me,
and we will live the years together,
But there are wishes never meet,
there are dreams cannot be.

Sobering wind, vanished moonlight,
Mourning my lost, this flimsy night.
Grasp to false hope, resolve to slavish-confine? 
No, she knows,
I am better than that.