Every tree is like an artist, Every leave it bears are his ways, Of changing this world into beauty, And making the best of days. But alas! When winter comes, And as autumn follows, Its leaves wither, And all its thoughts are nothing but hollow. All those beautiful ideas fly away, Because of the bad weather, Not a single left behind, And flew away like broken feathers. The bad weather is nothing; But those people who forgot, What console or encourage means, And the outcomes it has brought, And then they wonder, Where has the rainbow gone? Where is the happiness? Why has everything turn to stone? And they know not, That it’s all because of them, That they destroyed everything, From the roots to the steam. No new leaves are born, No new fruit or flower, No color or beauty, So everything starts to cower.