"How beautiful you are, how white-barked!" — The Maple whispered confessions to the Birch. But then people came—oh, what sorrow! — And struck her breast with an axe.
She refreshed them with her sap, And only her broken branches trembled, She raised her top high toward the Maple, So wounded, that he would not notice.
Chorus: From love for the Maple She begged all her fate, That the green leaves Would not wilt, would not wilt.
"You were beautiful, you were white-barked," — The Maple showed the Birch cold disdain. The Birch fought her pain with all strength, While nearby... The Viburnum bloomed perfectly.
...Lonely Birch. She stands alone. How to forgive betrayal—she knows not, cannot know. And only each year with birch sap Or perhaps with people's tears does she quench their thirst.
