The fir-tree

The fir-tree stands silent,

alone on a grey eminence;

the boy sails in a boat

across the blue lake.

Deeply absorbed in itself

the fir-tree stands and thinks,

the boy caresses the waves

as they foam past.

"You fir-tree up there

you dark old lad,

why do you always look so bitterly

on me down here?"

Mournfully it moves

the edge of its dark branches

and with a quiet shudder

the old fir-tree says,

"Because soon the axe will be looking for me

to make your coffin,

that's what always makes me so bitter,

lad, when I think of you."