(From Marmande who came to Bordeaux for the ceremony)
“The abuse has occult champions, more dangerous than the openly declared ones and the proof of that is the difficulty to uproot them.” Allan Kardec (What is Spiritism)
One day some honest peasants
Proudly standing before a huge oak tree
Measured it with their eyes, large front
- In vain we provide, said one, our seed;
Along those harrowed and well smoked furrows
Fertilizers and sap are consumed; nothing grows
On the many branches and the thick foliage;
All this is such waste
Allowing this tree to impoverish the terrain;
Absorbing our sweat, sterilizing the grain.
Brothers, if you believe me,
Our field will be free
From the unwanted host… and that… on the spot!
Hands on, they shouted in excitement.
They were all strong, ardent.
A rope is tied to the tree, from the top
And there we have a chain;
The forming rings set the strain;
The trembling foliage rustles,
But that is all… they agitate and struggle,
Pulling the robust and tortuous dome,
But the trunk remains strong.
A wise man of the region,
A good old man tells them in-passing: - My children,
Your harvest is gone,
Destroy it… it is okay…
You are on!
But knock it down easily you can’t;
The big oak tree will not faint
Before your arms’ little strength;
Age stiffens the body, inflexible at length.
Deliver the terrible assault more quietly
To the vigorous giant, respectfully.
Centuries have passed by this gnarled bark
Days are needed to undermine its park.
Shine Sunlight onto the root, unveiled
And death will come to the massive frail
When abuse cannot be suppressed in one blow
It is in the foundations that ruin will grow!