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.