Out in a meadow, one winter
Complained so a lonely leaf:
' Alas, all those who did love me
Left me all alone in grief.
Nobody is here with me,
Not a shepherd, goat, or sheep,
Nor an ant I may shelter
When the rain is running deep.
I see not a single tree
Looking tense and embarrassed
Whose body has been covered
Through the year by leaves like me.
Hearing him a patient rock
Told him not to wail in vein,
But wait until they implore
For his favor once again.
The rock is me who advises
people to admire nature,
Or face a grim destiny
On the Earth soon or later.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem