Roots sink deep, heavy with untold grief,
branches stretched wide, bearing silent burdens.
Leaves fall like whispered tears, soft and unseen,
each one a fragment of sorrow remembered.
In the stillness, it stands alone,
a witness to loss, to the weight of shadows.
Its bark holds the scars of storms long passed,
yet it grows, reaching upward,
holding sorrow as part of its form.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem