A small, lonely stump of a tree
All that remains
of what once was great and strong
Inviting us to sit and think and remember
What stood here
Is still rooted-
anchored to the earth
But its prescence is no longer felt
A space in the sky
Surrounded by trees that
have survived our brutal contact.
Across the path
neatly stacked
the severed trunk is
rotting in slow motion
A silver birch
that once reflected
moonlight beams
now lies
horizontal
home to spiders and other
despicable creatures
Cut off
Abandoned
Dead
And yet
Looking down
I see a small green sapling
Life goes on
I feel really happy
and great sadness
as I sense
my mortality.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem