The smoke rises, swaying, Reaching out to the sky, A dance of a thousand stories Written by troubled minds, The wind carries away The sigh of forest trees, While the river shimmers, Reflecting the sun’s tears.

Alone with nature, Where the heart finds its pulse, Each leaf a whisper, a secret, A breath in the time of silence, And the branches arch like arms, In embrace with the clouds above.

• Julian Tuwim