I started from a little seed,
Brought about by nature’s greed.
Now I sit, watch the world go by,
But which sad figure am I?
I stand alone among many others,
I am lonely though I have brothers.
I could grow and reach the sky,
But which sad figure am I?
I have branches each containing,
Bits of me which I’m detaining.
Don’t ask me, I don’t know why,
But which sad figure am I?
Now I’m fallen, broken and dead,
Too many thoughts inside my head.
Emotions escape me so I cannot cry,
But which sad figure am I?
I cannot mix and cannot see,
The big, wide world in front of me.
I’m here rooted to where I lie,
But which sad figure am I?
I see no future, no way through,
There is little I can do.
I cannot move, don’t want to try,
But which sad figure am I?
My light and warmth will not go on,
There’ll come a time when they have gone.
Won’t live forever, soon I’ll die,
But which sad figure was I?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem