Up from the ground did its trunk shoot,
Anchored deep by its twisted roots,
Spreading out its branches went,
Bending down with their leaf and flowered blossom scent.

Its old rugged bark clothed its wood,
There for 250 years the old tree stood,
Near the path walking way,
Where the local people would walk each day.

Down upon the old tree seen,
Against its bark the sunlight would gleam,
Except in its notches and crevice marks,
That covered portions of its bark.

How its branches in the wind did sway,
As some of its blossoms upon the breeze did sail away,
When at that moment heard the tree,
The voice of the wind softly speak.

Have you ever seen such beauty as she?
Whistled the wind to the Cherry Tree,
See the beautiful maiden below…
Wrapped in thou blossoms that you have grown?

Tell me tree… is it not so…
That thou blossom beauty comes and goes?
Yet among you is a blossom I do see,
That loses not its enchanted beauty.

The tree looked upon Libby then said to the air…
Indeed - beautiful is the maiden standing there,
Oh yes… she has bloomed into a special piece,
A truly molded masterpiece.

And it is true… her beauty stays,
Not carried off by you the wind… or damaged by the hot sun rays,
Her beauty that she does maintain,
Is neither damaged by the insects nor washed away by the rain.

How I do wish… said the cherry tree,
That this one blossom would stay with me,
Yet sadly the tree said… “I Know
Like all the other blossoms… this one too must go.”

For a gentle breeze shall come along…
And sweep her off her feet… carrying her along,
For such a beautiful blossom… with a precious heart display,
Is bound to be picked… and carried away.

For beauty such as hers… is rarely seen,
It comes but once in a lifetime… as it always seems to be,
Then the tree asked the wind… “What’s the name of the blossom that grows?
The one that we speak of… that stands below?”

Then the wind gazing down,
At the blossom standing on the ground,
Then said softly to the cherry tree…
“They call this blossom… Liberata Marinilli.”