The winter tree
does not move.
Its wide trunk
plunges into graven earth,
unseen roots, grasping hands
feel deeply the living soil,
hold firm anchorage
against the coming storm,
but rising wood, thin
though strong enough
to paint slender lines,
trails into purer air,
gives shelter
to Christmas birds.
They hunch on stems, quietly
waiting to sing open
the dawn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful depiction/ excellent poem! !