You have said the righteous is like a tree
planted in a garden by a river.
The world passes by and they wonder:
Who are these that stand like guards of no gold?
They are silent. Then they speak but not words
understandable to natural ears.
They are still. Then they move as if by force.
They are deaf, but silence is like hearing.
The world mocks, the world laughs: the world.
But Your river runs from spring to ocean
and in the slow and deep You are there.
The roots of Your trees emerge from the bank
to take more urgently what nurtures them,
and they lean out over the river, that to revere.