Alas! The trees haven’t moved.
The earth still binds them with the cordial chains of time.
Alas! The trees haven’t moved.
They still stand motionless - majestic and sublime.

The sentinels of their own life and fate,
only their manacled heart-beat neither yours nor mine,
they do not feel the frost and pain -
it’s numbed by the coolness of the worlds colourless wine.

When the silence screams from places unknown,
they silence it with wicked song and rhyme,
filled with lust for natures aid
and Filled with lust for a more peaceful time...

Though their crown succumbs to axe and blade
and their life fades from green to grey,
Their throne, their roots will stay undisturbed
and bear a courageous kingling another day.

Be glad! The trees haven’t moved.
For then our life will be a ocean full of danger.
Their peaceful wrath, waking from slumber,
will drown us and allow no well-known stranger.

But also feel unfortunate!
Because they will walk when we stand still
In the cabinets of memory.
They will walk when our footprints
are washed away by rain and sea.