Bagme Bloma

Flower of the Trees

The birch bears fine
leaves on shining boughs,
it grows pale green and glittering,
the flower of the trees in bloom,
fair-haired and supple-limbed,
the ruler of the mountain.

The winds call, they shake gently,
she bends her boughs low in sport;
smooth, straight and white-barked,
trembling she speaks a language,
a bright token, a good mystery,
blessing my people.

Evening grows dark with clouds,
the lightning flashes,
the fine leaves fly free,
but firm and faithful
the white birch stands bare and waits,
ruling the mountain.