Dead hours, bent at the mountain’s foot
The plain’s a blaze and, tormented
The bloody, rebellious trees
Shout to God for the blessing of a spring!
And when, high morning, the sun gilds
The broom with gold, burning, along the roads
Sphinx-like, they carve, disheveled
Their tragic outlines on the horizon!
Trees! Hearts, souls that cry
Souls like mine, souls that beg
In vain for a cure to so much sorrow!
Trees! Don’t cry! Look and see
I’m also shouting, dying of thirst
Asking God for my drop of water!
Trees! Don’t cry! Look and see
I’m also shouting, dying of thirst
Asking God for my drop of water!
Trees! Don’t cry! Look and see
I’m also shouting, dying of thirst
Asking God for my drop of water!