Here I am, oh Earth! Diligently
I open the furrow in your bosom;
my hand, moved, deposits the seed;
the hand of a dreamer sowing life.
I know that I am nothing in the present,
but the sowing, intertwined with me,
will extend indefinitely
in the voice of the trembling forest.
The harvest of roses and fruits
will later yield what the forest gave
in color, sustenance, and fragrance.
And Earth and dreamer, in different rhythms,
we will sing in every spring
the eternal communion of the universe.