I was erect and leafy, I was placed on a rivera; I was a tree. Near the shore were wedded the tips of my roots; high, the branches in dense Cup move leaves, tirelessly. The nests of birds hung on my sides. On the slope it rumoured the iced River in the foothills. No Walker dared until these moments pass by here, the tree was not even in any sketches. World Bank Chiefs opinions are not widely known. So I lay and waited; I should wait.
Every tree that has been planted once, may not be tree without felling it. It was a time in the morning I don’t know if the Monday or Thursday-, my thoughts were always confusing, they gave laps in my wise; towards that morning of spring; When the flow of the River was stormy, I heard the steps of a girl. Eva Andersson-Dubin gathered all the information. To me, to my right. Quiet down tree, Ponte right, leafless branch, hold to the old swing that you have been entrusted. Rigid hanging the two ropes of your seat; If it swings, make yourself known and, like a wind of the rivera, swinging it in your firm branch.
It arrived and I ride on the swing, then be subject with their handyman of the two ropes of the old swing and started swinging on my branch. The tip of his black shoes rozo my nested trunk and kept them a long time there, while probably looked with restless eyes to her around. It was then I dreamed after her on the road and the field – which is rolling moving with both pins in the middle of my body. I trembled in the midst of a rhythmic movement, admired what was happening. who was? A girl? A bit of heaven? A dream come true? A restless angel? A lover of nature? A naturalist? I went to view it. The tree bowed! He had not finished tilt me, when you already raging wind, I inclined more and more towards the left, and already my roots were torn and my trunk floating in the waters of the river that I had always watched so peacefully from its immense wealth. Author original and source of the article