The trees swayed in the wind,
As if bending over to tell secrets,
To each other,
With no bother.
They swayed as if nothing mattered,
But the secrets they were telling,
Were serious.
They were about the stories in their head.
These trees liked to tell their stories,
To each other,
About what had happened in their lives.
They swayed in the wind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem