i lean on her trunk thinking
asking what could be like
a century ago to this day
i could see thick wilderness
tame with wild animals roam
not a sight of bipedals prints
i look around me roads are hard
vines are strung across columns
rocks rose to square boulders
natives march inside for living
i hear her moan for acid rain
too much smoke from within
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'a poem lovely as tree...'