The summer’s gone, the cold winds come and all my joys are far away.
My crown, my proudness all on ground coloured to yellow and red.
Oak, what fate will come to me when snow and freeze will cover me,
I’d rather go to sleep and wait to feel again the sun and warmth.

Who does this noise? What cries I hear on this pine autumn day?
Not you again, complaining every time this season of the year.
Smell how fresh the air is, see how sparkling white the snow.
Don’t ruin this with sadness now, stop whining and stand tall.

You speak easy prickly one, you got nothing to lose.
Those waxy spikes – You call them leaves? – are not going to freeze.
But me, oak me will surely die, I can feel it in my bole.
I will turn grey, while ants and fungi will have feast on me.

Well now now there’s no need for despair, no one’s going to die,
Your canopy will grow back soon and you can taunt again mine.
But for these few moons I’ll be the prettiest one in this forest,
Whether you’re envious or angry, it doesn’t change the fact.

Oak you, oak you will be pretty I can surely tell you that,
Standing in the living room of a musty little flat,
wrapped in shiny plastic waste, with candles in your arms,
Is that envy shaking me? Oak no, that’s just the laugh.

Rattle, clatter grumpy one, you won’t make me upset,
This day is just too pine for listening to talk like that,
You don’t know my fate nor yours, let that to the gods.
One day a day, just live like that, with less worries and doubts.

Published by Draw'n'Tale (Kata&Gábor)