The trees suffer standing up,
by its roots, attached to faith,
they get sick, they cry, they die,
such cruel luck do not deserve.
The humblest foliage
is a victim of outrage,
Who will make up your pride,
Who will give them tender lullaby?
I am the soul of the woods
that, because of some awkward ones,
"Vegetan" with inert flora
or have found death.

I am the entrails of the mountains,
of hills, horizons,
that have been desolate,
For some heartless.

I am the essence of natura,
victim of inculturation,
of interests of a few,
For those who suffer from fright.

Oyamel and pine forests,
Why such a brutal destiny?
They are cut down, they are burned,
Instead of being loved.
Oak, mahogany,
tropical groves,
of life are the veins,
you have to impose serious closures.

Environmental contingencies,
some monumental,
destroy their ecosystem,
by empire, by system.

To prevent that from happening,
May his greatness not die!
they are the lungs of the orb,
oxygen that is absorbed.

I am everyone's conscience
probos humans
that, to all science and patience,
They will take care of existence.
Of the fronds, of its fauna,
leaving behind all trauma,
remedying the ecocide,
the society in council.

I am the principle of justice
that, to the towns, caresses,
I am the condemnation of the world
which cries out, deep inside:

“Unhappy thalammon,
that do not follow guidelines,
merciless incendiaries
which, of the devil, are allies.

Leave our forests alone,
We are already your rangers,
Soon we will have a party,
our love reforests them!
Author: Lic. Gonzalo Ramos Aranda