Oh, trees! You are brothers of mine.
‘Twas dark'ning, but my eyes defined,
For sure - to the heaven, so starry -
That you, for your night rest, have hurried,
Like someone - a farmer, a sailor -
Who's tired of his heavy labor.
Away, in the morn I shall go,
But, ere that, leave you my all store:
The star, the sunrise, and the snow -
Which life has me kindly bestowed.
I thank you, my brotherly wizards,
For sedative songs of your blizzards,
For leafage's rustle and cool hue,
For that I shall - before you…