The Eucalyptus Complaint
In the humid summer heat refreshed by the erik, the drizzle of July,
The eucalyptus like a sentinel watches over the high plateaus of Madagascar,
Assailed by bush fires, martyr with burned feet,
It pushes its forehead to meet the lightning but often gives way under the axe.
Eternal thirsty plunging its roots in search of the sources that it dries up,
Under its bark, it hides the tenderness that makes it shiver in the wind,
When it cries, its leaves turn into red and canary gold flowers,
That the dry grass of the sterile "bouzaka" recovers as fertilizer.
Guy says l’Arié…..Joie