Your beauty surpasses that of women,

Though poets compare their features to you.

Soft hill’s curves are better to examine,

Long hairs are pretty but long streams are true,

Your crickets and creeks play a precious song.

The scent on the wind trumps human perfume;

To this wind’s embrace I’d rather belong.

For you I’ll gladly leave a woman’s room.

But you also exceed in feeling pain:

You are, like women, raped by greedy men.

They strip off your trees, on you force their reign.

Men “develop” virgin lands too often.

I pray for repentance, hope, and healing

For a nature so very appealing.