L'Olivera

On the hill where the sun rises every spring morning, defying frost and east wind, you will find an olive tree. Many years ago, a man made his efforts with her grow. He said there were a hundred trees in the wind, the pride of the one who brought them to life. 'Sir, no one has and no laborer approaches to prune its branches.' Alone, she goes from wind to wind, happy to be free and wild. She's not afraid if a frost strips her in the fall, and always has enough with the rain to clean her leaves. She's always there... by the side of the road offering her shade. She gives everything to everyone, what more can you ask of an old stump. When a fruit is born, it's so small that not even the birds dare to peck it. Thinking, maybe it's the last one, the last fruit and it needs to be cherished. They make their nest every summer on any branch. And the old tree feels this way, with life being born from a branch. And so she goes from wind to wind, waiting for someone to come one afternoon, cut her down and burn her to pieces. On the hill where the sun rises every spring morning, defying frost and east wind, an olive tree died.