To whom should the trees grow?
totally wounded by fire like billow,
tormented by slash and burn practices that grow,
till everything ends up in a hollow.
From sunrise till midnight,
fire still ripping the silence of the night,
fallen burnt woods litter the hill's height,
fragments of destruction, needles for the eye-sight.
Morbid greed for a vast land,
mortuary for the trees that grow bland,
morning torchers grouped in a band,
mourning birds will soon be buried under the sand, .
When one day, the day of final retribution,
where cities will be buried by mud of destruction,
while they sleep and dying under the flood's incarceration,
Who should be blamed? Constant deforestation.
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