On the soft carpet of the forest
To go on velvet footsteps
To sit at your feet
In the dappled sunlight, in silence
Far from the sounds of humans
To listen to the rustling of your leaves…
And to caress alternatively
With my hand and my look…
In a soft voice I call you
Using your magical names:
White-oak. Forest-aspen
Maple. Hornbeam.
Black-alder. Willow. White Birch.
My thousand mute friends.

September 1968.

Translated by Lenora Timm

This poem in breton

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