We do not wish, none of us
In raising, to harm
Less a hand, a slapping thought!
As much who gives, who receives
Oft of the shock grieves.
What can we say, fellow trees?
World-facing, cower.
Of the same force, overwrought
A gale's, for each other's mood
Met with. That cold; crude.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem