PRAYER OF THE WOODS
(A poem fastened to trees in the Portuguese forests for more than 1,000 years)
Ye who pass by and would raise your hand against me,
listen to me before you harm me.
I am the heat of your heart on the cold winter nights,
The friendly shade screening you from summer sun,
And my fruits are refreshing draughts,
Quenching your thirst as you journey on.
I am the beam that holds your house,
The board of your table,
The bed on which you lie,
The timber that builds your boat.
I am the handle of your hoe,
The door of your homestead,
The wood of your cradle,
And the shell of your coffin.
I am the bread of kindness and the flower of beauty.
Ye who pass by, listen to my prayer:
Harm me not.
