The brother of wind – is my tree
And of the glowing sun.
Its upper branches tower my garden
It droops laden with inflorescence.
And listens to me without budging:
A faithful friend, a pal.
Whoever hears will mock me:
What type of friend and pal is this?
All gnarled and scarred,
His age – no one knows!
May they enjoy this mockery!
And I shall hug its trunk,
And shall whisper to it: - good friend,
Please teach me, you mighty one,
How to raise my head after a storm,
And like you, to bloom again
And to blossom, to blossom on end
Please teach me, oh tree.