Nature, long have I trampled your labor,
knowing the verdant beauty of your hands,
I still look down your reign.
even in civilization, I destroy your virginal purity.
My concience haunts me before your stripped nakedness,
your days are furious and your nights summons me to your calling feet.
I feel the coldness of your touch,
but all through the revolution,
I've seen your destructive force
like a drop of oil in the lamps,
as if hear hang the days,
the dew drops wipe away.
Through my inappreciation,
I foreshadow a vicissitude
encased in the open closeness
of my counting days.
But in my pleas, I plead most;
passionate nature, plead do I,
cease not your humble deeds,
for lost am I without your escort
on this pumper side of the plane.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem