Fortunate, but quite unfortunate—
How did a seedling sprout upon a grassless field?
It shouldn't be here—but light favored it;
And constantly, rain falls upon its favor.

O, how you grew well!
In a grassless field, a fig tree—
Fair leaves, symbolic patterned trunks, and many.. too many figs.
The tree's quite soft—no insides, but filled with soul.

The tree's figs are quite falling;
and the tree can't choose which to save—
all of it fills life to its coreless being.
Then, all the figs fell—the light and rain can't support it no more.