This tree is obsolete, its shrunken roots have lost support of ground
It doesn't hear voice of spring, birds chorus's trills it doesn't hear sound
Gone are audacity and fun of crown's growth rage
Killed by the cold hangover brought by unforgiving age
In dreamlike memories of youth this tree is held enchanted by the past;
By happiness and love that were alive, alas, they long have passed
But strangely - on its trunk the tender green shoot of escape I see
Which props itself through wrinkles of its bark's dried up and deadened skin,
Oh, tree of life - not yet completed is your time
As long as you can stand - tough heavy pressure of your years you shall overcome!
