Dead hours, bent at the mountain’s foot
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The plain’s a blaze and, tormented
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The bloody, rebellious trees
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Shout to God for the blessing of a spring!
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And when, high morning, the sun gilds
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The broom with gold, burning, along the roads
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Sphinx-like, they carve, disheveled
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Their tragic outlines on the horizon!
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Trees! Hearts, souls that cry
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Souls like mine, souls that beg
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In vain for a cure to so much sorrow!
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Trees! Don’t cry! Look and see
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I’m also shouting, dying of thirst
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Asking God for my drop of water!
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Trees! Don’t cry! Look and see
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I’m also shouting, dying of thirst
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Asking God for my drop of water!
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Trees! Don’t cry! Look and see
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I’m also shouting, dying of thirst
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Asking God for my drop of water!