A man of the woods carries his belongings
To a hut, where he proclaims a message
To his family, and restores himself with comfort.
The family knows he is not just a forester,
Underneath the leaves is a buried soul, he says,
One of the poor souls.
The forester never forgets the trees,
He, indeed, is a being with the woods,
Cutting down trees even in his spare time.
The family despises this lonely man of the forest,
The denial of human life is utterly obnoxious,
Life is precious, even all of nature cherishes it.
One day, this man of the woods described himself
In his world of timber, and laid his hands on his sons,
Teaching them not to take another soul just as he did.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem