I adore old trees for their
dignity and austerity.
Their majestic demeanor conceals
an infinite reservoir of ideas.
I adore spreading crowns and
trunks with rough bark.
They resemble kings on thrones.
their heads will not bend.
The aged tree recalled youth.
And mourned his home's springs
What he saw, he recalled
Observed only the icy stars
But the moon won't illuminate the leaves.
And the morning will have forgotten him.
No bird will build a nest in its branches.
How do the old tree live?
Suddenly, the entire earth fell silent...
The birds ceased to sing and were silent...
The wind's call was simply echoed...
Oh, I would at least turn green once...
