Look at these old trees, - more beautiful,
Than the younger, friendlier trees,
Both more beautiful and older,
Winning of age and proceeds. . .
The man, the beast and the insect in their shadow
They live free from hunger and fatigue;
And in its branches are sheltered the cantigas
And joy of the chattering birds. . .
Let us never weep at youth!
We grow old laughing! We aged
As strong trees age,
In the glory of joy and goodness
Wrapping the birds in the branches,
Giving shade and consolation to those who suffer!
