Ich habe die Traumhöhle gefunden, von der Katherine Mansfield in ihrem Gedicht “Opal Dream cave” erzählt. Vertrieben aus der Höhle bleibt nur noch das Glitzern des Staubes ihrer Flügel zurück – und leuchtet weiter in die Welt.
Und das zweite Gedicht, von Rose Fyleman, sagt sehr schön, warum nicht alle Menschen in dem Bild hier das Glitzern des Feen-Staubes sehen können. 😉

I found the dream cave, Katherine Mansfield wrote about in her poem “Opal dream cave”. Driven out of her cave, all that is left is the glitter and glow of the dust of her wings.
And the second poem, from Rose Fyleman, explains nicely, why not everyone will be able to see the shine of the fairy wing dust in this picture. 😉

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In an opal dream cave I found a fairy:
Her wings were frailer than flower petals,
Frailer far than snowflakes.
She was not frightened, but poised on my finger,
Then delicately walked into my hand.
I shut the two palms of my hands together
And held her prisoner.
I carried her out of the opal cave,
Then opened my hands.
First she became thistledown,
Then a mote in a sunbeam,
Then–nothing at all.
Empty now is my opal dream cave.

Katherine Mansfield
(1888-1923)

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Blind folk see the fairies.
Oh, better far than we,
Who miss the shining of their wings
Because our eyes are filled with things
We do not wish to see.

Deaf folk hear the fairies
However soft their song;
‘Tis we who lose the honey sound
Amid the clamor all around
That beats the whole day long.

Rose Fyleman

Yours truly