Doisterea

Barren branches humiliated by the wind with long groan, bow under the whip of rain and ask for mercy. It seems like yesterday, forest was a miraculous lute from which rose all the harmony of a world. Now, one by one her rusty strings broke tormented, caused by a mad fiddler.

Unversed and lofty, slightly shy Seduced by the zephyr's whisper And shattered by a strong desire Born out of nothing, like a twister, My tree has blossomed into life. The opal tracery is weaved From fine sap wire and wood seed. Subtly resembling winter coat Melted upon the cosmic clock Awaken by the winds of spring. It shyly fondled me at dawn And brought a dainty, secret scent A bitter sweet contour is drawn For the green soul that will become The branch and leaf embodiment. No words were uttered, whisper not There's only air to play the string. The petals flinched and colour brought A braided crown upon my thought My tre