making pickles in the sun

Hiraeth is a word for a home that never stayed A quiet kind of longing that time cannot persuade A place that lives in memory, a face that lives in me A gentle kind of silence where love is meant to be My Hanne Hanne mine Can I ever find again Those pickled cucumbers in the sun and time Golden jars, sunlight in my hands Hiraeth calls across all lands Let the past float, no need to hold Warmth and memory, more precious than gold Silent pacts, unconditional and true She lives inside, in everything I do Ooh, the garden remembers, soft and slow Ooh, heart to heart, let the feeling flow [transition] [singer A] Hiraeth in my heart tonight Hiraeth in the light A home inside another soul Holding me so tight Hiraeth in the water deep Hiraeth in the stream We held each other silently Inside a fragile dream Glass jars full of sunlight Hands that kept the day Women saving pieces So life would find a way But now I know the secret And now I understand Home is not a place we keep It’s someone’s gentle hand In the garden I remembered But it no longer needs to be Because I do not pickle cucumbers anymore You are already living in me Final line Hiraeth… you are home in me.