Little pine tree,
Stretching its branches merrily
In the center of the clearing
At the base of the mountain
Near the edge of the woods
It leaves me
wondering
Oh little pine tree,
What is it like
To be
here endlessly
When the bee comes
and smell your sweet scent,
And the snow
covers your grand little branches
And the sweeping winds
carry it away
when it melts again for spring
What is it like
To be
In the center of a clearing
At the base of the mountain
Near the edge of the woods?