Cling to the thought that
trees have feelings too
since they breathe and feed
like me and you.
Cling to the knowledge:
that their leaves and seeds
depend upon the roots
to fill their needs.
Cling to the truth:
they only sense supply,
and never care to know the roots
that hidden lie.
Do you ever think
how strange but true.
you never see the heart
that beats in you?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem