Wishing was easy and so was the grant,
As much as to sow a plant,
Time comes to take the pain
Seldom was care, a life in strain.
Still it grows into a tree,
Wild, careless, green and free.
People wonder for its strength,
They admire, curse and watch at length.
Little they know, as night filled the sky
An angel stopped when flying by
Saw of the plant in its appalling state,
Gave it love and pain was abate.
Night upon night the two met,
A perfect company one could get.
But a day came when the angel fell,
From the sky, like towards the hell.
Wings clipped and no power to hold
This was the end as was told.
A cushion then suddenly appeared!
Held the fall, when vision cleared
‘Twas the tree who was the shelter,
She knew now, nothing else could matter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem