A morning like every other
In the grey bus we were,
Just when it took a stop
When on a tree did my eyes drop
Like a nymph, most wonderful, tall it stood
With its arms swaying as swift as it could
Among the olive green ones
That sprout from the earth
All connected in a line,
Upon which shone the sun,
Were the woven roots
Wiping Gaia's tears
With which it bears its fruits
The white bark smiles
To see an admirer pass by
Such a colourful treant,
Would a dull soul deny
Upon its tender branches
Its bosom bears flowers pink
So vivid and strong,
Its leaves painted in ink
And a flower twirls down the sweet air
Kissing the earth in times of despair
One would sleep under this star's arms
A star indeed, for it shines bright
Its a shame we blocked the sight,
For the grey wall covers it on one end,
And the grey fence on the other
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem