The first fir tree I ever saw

The first fir tree I ever saw

was a Christmas tree in mellow candle light;

I still can see the green wonder

standing before me in the brightly lit room.

Each day I would be up early

to rob, in good belief, the sprigs of their decoration;

But when I broke the last sweet fruit

my belief in wonders was broken, too.

But when, in springtime, for the first time

I lost my way in a wood of spruce and fir,

sneaking through the tall and serene pillars

until the wood gave way to smaller trees:

Oh, happiness! How then, unobserved,

I frolicked in a plantation of small Christmas trees,

The tree tops swaying gently just above my hair,

cooling my head from above.

A small giant in a small fir wood,

amused I saw where little Christmas trees grow;

With sudden lust I grabbed a tiny fir,

struggled to bend it until it touched my feet.

And high above me there was nothing but blue space;

But when I pressed closely to the soil

I saw beneath me, through a seam of thin tree trunks,

how land and lake were rolling in the silvery air.

As I lay so there came a rustling noise,

the breeze ruffled my locks

and from high above the eagle shot down,

the sound of his flapping wings roaring in my ears.

As he hovered just above my head

his eye glistened like dark gem stones:

At the outer thin fringe of his wings

I saw the sun shine through the feathers.

His shadow lay calmly on my face

and cooled my hot cheeks -

If there ever was a hot-blooded Indian prince

above whose head such sun shade was held?

As I lay so, suddenly I saw close to me

a lizard who, with curious looks,

looked down and straight into my eye from a near-by twig

like a child would look into the water from an unstable bridge.

Never again have I seen so pure a look,

and so lively and calm, fine and glowing;

Light green was his colour, I saw his breath

in a delicate, heaving chest, blossoming pale like a rose.

Was it my blue eyes that drew him down?

He slithered down from his twig to land on my forehead,

stepped downwards until he bent around my neck,

his resting limbs a delicate necklace.

I did not move. I felt the light pressure

of his pulse against my neck.

This was the only and most beautiful jewellery

I have ever worn in my life!

A little pantheist I was then

and slumbered blissfully amongst the young trees;

Never did I know at that time, though,

that little trunks would grow to yield this kind of boards!