Santad bugel

A CHILD'S FEELING

 

 Such love as that for the trees?

From my tenderest age

When I caressed their bark

With my babyish hand.

When I glued my ear against them

To listen to the rustling of their leaves

The humming of their branches twisting in a high wind.

And the snap of their dry twigs breaking off.

When I tried to climb high, high!

Ever higher. From limb to limb.

A bird without wings!

And from there to marvel at the horizon.

 

...And how unpleasant the descent

To touch one's feet again on ground!

 

Trees of my childhood, tell me then

Where it came from so early

A love so profound for you?

 

Perhaps I was a tree

at the beginning of time...

 

July 1974.