destiny is like a tree:
having many branches of life
weathered and well seasoned
and when rooted firmly in the ground
can endure any storm
with sustainable and renewable resilliance
the harvesting of a tree
is the breath of life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
But destiny is a tree of heaven...we don't know how it grows, its kind of fruit...if it is going to stop abruptly with raw or fallen fruit or with fully ripe one...well done