the tree that bears no fruit
has nothing to offer, and has nothing
to worry, whether it will be liked
or not, for it has no fruits for
you to taste and judge.
the tree that bears no fruit, worries
not, about the incoming storm, or
the rumored sickness of the trees
from that faraway land which killed
forests and grasslands, for here
the tree that bears no fruit has no
other wish, but to be cut, to perish,
and to be forgotten.
for what is the pride of the world,
the heritage of this niche, except those
trees that grew so tall, and lush of
its own kind, full of fruits and shade
the happiness of the family and the children
of the future, the comfort of the earth,
the ones that they all worry about...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem