Pine groves, standing like temples.

Wavy boughs, rippling with light, so soft and green.

Forsaken to worship.

Higher and higher, the creeper juniper covers with wreaths full of fruit.

White-spruce trees, like beautiful butterflies, grow.

The beholder forgets his home.

He is dazzled and tempted by wild forbidden fruits.

Too fair for mortal taste.

Standing far away in the depths of a wood, or a hilltop he watches;

Such as the black-birch, handsome specimens.

The yellow-birch with its golden vest perfumed like the first.

And it’s beautifully lichen-painted, perfect in all its details sway in the wind.

He expected scattered specimens, but once small groves have been planted.

But, it is worth his while to see the silver.

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