THE GIVING TREE

By Shel Silverstein

Once there was a tree…… And she loved little boy. And every day the boy would come and he would gather her leaves And make them into crowns and play king of the forest.

He would climb up her trunk And swing from her branches And when he was tired, he would sleep in her shade.

And the boy loved the tree…..Very much.. And the tree was happy.

But time went by, And the boy grew older. And the tree was often alone. Then one day the boy came

to the tree and the tree said:

–”Come, Boy, come and climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and eat apples and play in

my shade and be “happy”

–“I am too big to climb and play” said the boy. “I want to buy thing and have fun. I want some money.

Can you give me some money?”

–”I’m sorry” said the tree,” but I have no money. I have only leaves and apples. Take my apples, Boy,

and sell them in city. Then you will have money and you’ll be happy”

And so the boy climb up the tree and gathered her apples and carried them away. And the tree was

happy…

But the boy stayed away for a long time…… and the tree was sad.

And then one day the boy came back and the tree shook with joy, and she said:

–”Come, Boy come and climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and eat apples and play in

my shade and be “happy”..

–“I am too busy to climb trees,” said the boy. “I want a house to keep me warm,” he said. “I want a

wife and I want children, and so I need a house. Can you give me a house?”

–“I have no house” said the tree. The forest is my house.” said the tree “but you may cut off my

branches and build a house. Then you will be happy”

And so the boy cut off her branches and carried them away to build a house. And the tree was happy.

But the boy stayed away for a long time……and the tree was sad. And when he came back, the tree

was so happy she could hardly speak.

–“Come, Boy” she whispered, “Come and play”

–“I am too old and sad to play.” said the boy. “I want a boat that will take me away from here. Can

you give me a boat ?”

–“Cut down my trunk and make a boat,” said the tree. “Then you can sail away…… and be happy.”

And so the boy cut down her trunk And made a boat and sailed away.

And the tree was happy…..But not really.

And after a long time the boy came back again.

–“I am sorry, Boy,” said the tree, “but I have nothing left to give you— My apples are gone.”

–“My teeth are too weak for apple,” said the boy.

–“My branches are gone,” said the tree. ”You cannot swing on them—”

–”I am too old to swing on branches” said the boy.

–“My trunk is gone,” said the tree.“ You cannot climb—-”

–”I am too tired to climb,” said the boy.

–“I am sorry” sighed the tree. “I wish that I could give you something… but I have nothing left. I am

just an old stump. I am sorry…”

–”I don’t need very much now” said the boy. “just a quiet place to sit and rest. I am very tired”

–“Well” said the tree, straightening herself up as much as she could, “well, an old stump is good for

sitting and resting. Come, Boy, sit down…and rest.”

And the tree was happy..

The end.

Charles Bukowski about love

Charles Bukowski
Love is a Dog from Hell

there is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock.
people so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love.
people just are not good to each other
one on one.
the rich are not good to the rich
the poor are not good to the poor.
we are afraid.
our educational system tells us
that we can all be
big-ass winners.
it hasn’t told us
about the gutters
or the suicides.
or the terror of one person
aching in one place
alone
untouched
unspoken to
watering a plant.

Cuvintele tale mi se lipesc de piele

nu am stat niciodata cu tine in apa

am umplut cada pana la refuz cu apa fierbinte si te-am luat in brate

am mers cu tine in apa si te-am citit din scoarta-n scoarta

azi te-am revazut fragil, usor anxios, cu fularul la gat si cu mainile timide pe genunchi

mi-am amintit de tot ce esti tu si de cat de important esti pentru mine, pentru tine

ai un efect sedativ asupra mea cand vorbsti mereu am impresia ca voi lesina de liniste

citindu-te am avut impresii contrare, m-ai revitalizat si m-ai pasionat

te-am simtit franc si cald, detasat dar prezent imi esti mai aproape azi decat imi erai ieri

mi-e drag de tine si mi-e dor de maine

the suicide kid

by Charles Bukowski

I went to the worst of bars
hoping to get
killed.
but all I could do
was to get drunk
again. worse, the bar patrons even
ended up
liking me.
there I was trying to get
pushed over the dark
edge and I ended up with
free drinks
while somewhere else
some poor
son-of-a-bitch was in a hospital
bed,
tubes sticking out all over
him
as he fought like hell
to live.
nobody would help me
die as
the drinks kept coming,
as the next day
waited for me
with its steel clamps,
its stinking
anonymity,
its incogitant
attitude.
death doesn't always
come running
when you call
it,
not even if you
call it
from a shining
castle
or from an ocean liner
or from the best bar
on earth (or the
worst).
such impertinence
only makes the gods
hesitate and
delay.
ask me: I'm
72.