A tree is a two-parted being,
Not only the fellow we see,
For he, just like us,
Has an innermost self;
In secret, yet wondrously free.
This hidden existence is led with one goal,
With one driving force and one passion—
Just as above
His limbs reach for the sky,
He strives below in the same fashion.
But, perhaps unlike us, his more practical side
Is the side he keeps sheltered from sight–
Below he seeks life-giving
Above, an unreachable light.
The rigid horizon—a rift through his heart—
It binds him to chasing two lovers.
The first greets him quickly,
The other remains.
Above him, indifferent, she hovers.
But should he forsake unattainable bliss,
Much joy would be lost for us too;
The blueness above,
Not the blueness below,
Is what beckons such life to our view.