These are the woods in which I grew up,
There stood a tree in the middle,
The branches swerved and galloped with the wind,
It seemed to talk sometimes and was helped with the air,
The breath of all earth,
Stretched far out to the mountains and oceans,
Cometh unto this forest and rustles the leaves,

I can climb it, but I choose to admire it from the stump,
Juxtaposed next to it,
There the bark seems to swirl,
The trunk breathes with every passing second,
As the leaves glisten and whistle in the light of this day,
From here the breathe comes easy,
In the woods where I grew up,

The words of the ancients whistled through the pores,
The spark was ignited,
There stood the sweet nectar,
There was the divine beauty,
The stillness and the natural swaying,
Of the cosmos.