I bend and break your tender bows,
I cut and bleed you,
Yet you love me.
My people tear your roots,
And poison your children,
Yet you love me.
My summer starves you,
My winter strips you of your golden cloak
Yet you love me.
And when I fall from your tending grasp,
You catch me with your loving arms,
Yet I leave you.
I forget, but you remember,
And when I'm grey and old,
I come to you and you hold me once again,
For you still love me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem