A tree in the plain.


Yonder is a tree in the plain,
a tree bent by the wind with bizar branches,
he is alone and unloved,
rooted in a time which came and went.

Were I a bird, I would sit down on one of his branches
and sing till sunset.

Were I a child, I would climb up and would hide myself
from a world I do not want.

Were I wise and older, I would just sit and dream silently under his brances.

Now I stare at that tree and mirror myself as in a dream
how it would be to be that tree.

Always silent, waiting there in that plain:
my arms are the branches,
with which I would receive the birds,
listening to their chants.

The child that came to hide, I would warm with my leaves
Until it sopped to cry
and the human being who sat against my trunk very silently,
I would want to show how much God loves him.

Yonder is a tree in the pl;ain, alone but not unloved anymore,
bizar are his branches, bent by the wind.
I stare at that tree and feel like the child, that wants to hide, but also like the human being who
wants to be wiser and silent.

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