Like breathing, it is a vital need
to project, and so plant the seed
of a growing tree, whose roots
will define the bases of my moods.
Those projections are a net of branches,
akin to the infinite number of choices
with which I will be faced in my future,
so think well and listen to the lecture!
It is important, it is no light subject,
it is a life of planned prospects,
it is my way of growing steady and strong,
a lasting tree whose leaves will play songs:
Shimmering sounds of soft stanzas
played out by the winds of destiny,
units of fate entangled with you,
due to your presence in pearls of dew.
The projections at first were free
from your intimate embrace, my dear,
but when with love you sowed my mind,
the thought of you would not be left behind.
So I traced new lines on my life tree,
including you in each step with me,
a holly tree whose berries so red
they would outlive me after I am dead.