A tree with a crook in the trunk,
Leaves blossoming everywhere,
It stands, many leaves falling
Underneath in the underbrush.
Green and luscious,
Calming, filled with life,
The tree stands,
But for what purpose?
Does it weep?
Does it smile?
Does it bring joy or anger?
What be its purpose?
To know it to torture oneself,
But to become part of Nature,
One will find the answer
As a transparent eyeball to
Everything around him or her,
To truly see its beauty.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem