He wanted to be a tree
Muddy river uncertain streams
Hollow clouds and failed dreams
Did not dare to be free
Wished to smell the sky
And feel the whites of snow
Heard noble folks die
‘Let us move a bit slow'
Crimson red peeped in the sun
All meadows turned red
Muddy rivers flowed into the valley of dead
Let us cheer the gun
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wished to smell the sky And feel the whites of snow...perspective of a never moving tree and its experiences posited in your person i want to be a tree.... fine poem and imagination....... tony