I know that people ask: why doesn't he sing in the wild symphonies that used to ring? They haven't seen the work of an hour—turning the gears— the labour of a minute, the wonder of a year.As a young tree, I was tuned to the breeze, and produced a vague poetic harmony. That smile—once so fresh and green—has passed, so let the hurricane whip up my heart.
(Translation by Prontobard – 2022)