The oak tree,
I stand alone in this bleak moor,
I endure everything,
Endurance is my faith.
The storm ripped me apart,
Thrashing my arms to the ground,
But I stand, stand I did,
For I knew nothing else.
Soon came the flood,
Washing away my ground,
I could feel my trunk rot,
But stand I did.
The autumn came,
And my leaves bid me farewell,
As the golden sheets fall to my feet,
I feel I’ve lost myself.
But I stand,
I stand in the bleak moor,
As alone as I can be,
And I endure the toughest times.
Soon autumn turned to winter,
And the snow froze me to death,
The thick sleet paining me,
Shivering I stand.
The sun came, with his scorching rays,
Thirsty days ahead…
And as I wither, I stand,
I stand all alone.
Drought came and the dust blew,
Clogging all my pores,
And I suffocate for I can’t breathe
Through the dust-coated leaves.
But I stand, stand forlorn,
And all I do is stand,
I endure everything,
As I am built to endure.
I endure, not because I’m a hero,
Nor is it due to faith,
I endure, not due to the silent hope,
Of promising days ahead.
I endure, not because I have
A secret wish to live,
I endure simply because
That’s all I know to do.
I know how to survive, how to stand, mighty and alone,
I know how to endure, with just sheer persistence,
I know not how to fail, if I had I would have,
I know not how to give in, if I had I would have,
And so I stand, through the times, that’s all I know to do…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem