I didn’t know what secrets these old trees hold
Deep in the forest they steadily grow
From the time before history was born
In the forest these trees stood long.
Seasons come and go through ages
Old trees withstand without shifting their paces
Fire, wind and water keep threatening their ground
These elderly ones still standing strong.
However with the word called deforestation
A dwindling is seen through their population
As their figures reach dangerously low
The secrets they hold slowly unfold.
Flood becoming common and world getting hotter
Air we breathe in is no longer as pure
What further mysteries the old trees will unfold
Not long before the story will be told.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem