When I'm In Heaven

When I'm in heaven
Tell me there’ll be kites to fly,
The kind they say you can control
Although I never did for long,
The kind that spin and spin and spin and spin
Then sulk and dive and die,
And rise again and spin again,
And dive and die and rise up yet again,
I love those kites.


When I’m in heaven
Tell me there’ll be friends to meet,
In ancient oak-beamed Sussex pubs
Enfolded by the wanton Downs,
And summer evenings lapping lazily against the shore
Of sweet familiar little lands
Inhabited by silence or by nonsenses,
The things you cannot safely say in any other place,
I love those times.


When I’m in heaven
Tell me there’ll be seasons when the colours fly,
Poppies splashing flame
Through dying yellow, living green,
And autumn’s burning sadness that has always made me cry
For things that have to end.
For winter fires that blaze like captive suns
But look so cold when morning comes.
I love the way the seasons change.


When I’m in heaven
Tell me there’ll be peace at last,
That in some meadow filled with sunshine
Filled with buttercups and filled with friends
You’ll chew a straw and fill us in on how things really are,
And if there is some harm in laying earthly hope at heaven’s door,
Or in this saying so,
Have mercy on my foolishness, dear Lord,
I love this world you made – it’s all I know.

(Adrian Plass)

Im Gedenken an
Wilhelmine Heymann
geb. 21.07.1913
gest. 06.10.2005

Ich hoffe, sie findet den Himmel so, wie sie ihn sich erhofft hat!