There was a girl,
her story told by the trees of the hamlet Talvern, in France, Brittany.
She was in love.
Her lover died, taken by the seas,
drifted by the waves.
After lulling the deceased into his new bed,
her milk began to bleed.
She asked the gods to wash her face
with the waters of forgetfulness.
The gods spoke back,
and turned her into an oak tree.
Her cheeks, soft moss,
Her feet, spread roots,
Her arms, wide branches,
Her hair, bird’s songs,
Her eyes, colorful bugs,
Her neck, owl’s chambers,
Her tongue, dewy bark.
There she rests until this day,
Throws Acorns on the way,
Sings along with winds and birds,
Cradles babies of the fay.
A sad song, this one is
Told by the trees of the place.