Trees by Joyce Kilmer

Trees

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree. 

Joyce Kilmer

The Little Rain by Tu Fu

Oh! She is good, the little rain! And well
She knows our need 
Who cometh in the time of spring to aid
The sun-drawn seed; 
She wanders with a friendly wind through
Silent night’s unseen, 
The furrows feel her happy tears, 
and lo! The land is green.

Last night, cloud-shadows gloomed

The path that winds to my abode,

And the torches of the river boats

Like angry meteors glowed.

Today, fresh colors break the soil, and

Butterflies take wing

Down, broidered lawns all bright with

Pearls in the garden of the king.

Translated by L. Crammer-Byug