The trees are high as after they have storms
Their produce is low, and their height also forms.
The tree has branches entering the sun and might,
May destiny of a life be in the brain of someone alright.
Life may obstruct life if lifting the stones
Shall penetrate the massive population of bones.
Push him then into the grave, where they die,
The tree is sacrificed, and he must die to beautify.
The living plants are no objective in our hearts,
The trees have enough acquisition of knowledge and charts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem