My heart loves a tree! Older than the olive,
mightier than the oak, greener than the orange tree,
it keeps in its leaves an eternal spring,
and battles the gales that beat upon the shore,
like a warrior giant.
No lovesick flower peers through its leaves;
no little spring comes to kiss its shade;
but God anointed its consecrated crown with fragrance
and gave it the rugged mountain range for earth,
the immense sea for its spring.
When far off, over the waves, the divine light is reborn,
no caged songbird sings among its branches;
it hears the sublime cry of the sea eagle,
or feels the giant wing of the rising vulture
stir its foliage.
Its life is not sustained by this earth's silt;
its powerful root twists through the rocks,
it has rains and dews and winds and burning light,
and, like an old prophet, receives life and feeds
on the loves of heaven.
Sublime tree! It is the living image of genius:
it towers over the mountains and gazes upon the infinite;
for it the earth is hard, but the sky that it loves
kisses its branches, and it holds lightning and storm
as glory and delight.
Oh yes! When the storm winds roar freely
and it seems, amid the foam, that the cliff itself will fall,
then it laughs and sings louder than the waves,
and, triumphant, shakes its royal mane
over the storm clouds.
Tree, my heart envies you. Upon this impure earth,
as a sacred pledge I shall carry your memory.
To struggle constant and conquer, to reign over the heights
and to feed and live on heaven and pure light…
oh life! oh noble fate!
Upward, strong soul! Rise above the mist
and take root on high like the tree of the cliffs.
You will see the raging sea of the world fall at your feet,
and your calm songs will fly upon the storm wind
like the bird of tempests.
