A Tree - José Corazón de Jesús

Viewed from a distant vantage

I appear as a cross with arms outstretched;

As I stayed on my knees long enduring,

It seems that I am kissing God’s feet.

Like an organ in a church,

Praying amid extreme sorrows,

Is the candle flame of my life

Keeping vigil upon my tomb.

At my feet is a spring

That sobs all day and all night;

Upon my branches lie

The nests of love-birds.

By the sparkling of that spring

You’d think of flowing tears bubbling;

And the Moon that seems to be praying

Greets me with a pale smile.

The bells tolling the vespers

Hint to me their wailing;

Birds on my branches are covered with leaves,

The spring at my feet has tears welling,

But look at my fate,

Dried-up, dying alone comforting myself.

I became the cross of the withered love,

And a watcher of tombs in the darkness.

All is ended! Night is a mantle of mourning

That I use to cover my face!

A fallen piece of wood am I, and prostrate

Neither bird nor people find any pleasure.

And to think that in the days past

A tree I was of luxuriant and leafy growth;

Now my branches are crosses o’er graves,

My leaves made into wreaths on tombs!

---

José Cecilio Corazón de Jesús y Pangilinan [pen name Huseng Batute] (1894 – 1932)

Translator not stated 

Source: Poemist