There was a copudo tree, dense, strong; especially strong in the face of the rain and the hurricane winds that dismelena wild green leafy hair. But the tree had a weakness: a child, whom he loved beyond himself. He loved it since the mother of the newborn came, almost every day, with the baby in his arms, rocked him and slept him telling him about endearing lullabies, leaning on his rough trunk, sitting on his vegetable roots. The heart of the tree grew, almost without feeling it, in the air of those delicate lullabies, tailored to the immense heart of that woman. 

  One day, the mother died; the boy was four years old. And it was precisely then that the wooden heart of the tree felt that the inside of the dead mother matured inside. To love is to have something beautiful and to want to share it. He took care of the boy, so much that when he saw him coming, he jubilantly exhausted his branches and shouted: 

  - Come, do you want to play? You will be the king of the jungle. Take my flowers and my leaves, braid a crown, place it on your head. And the child walks through the paths of the forest. And the tree was happy with the offering of its frond! No one can stop life. The child grew, other instances filled his heart. He no longer wanted to play at being the king of the jungle; his heart wanted things, things, things ... but he did not have them, and his face languished with sadness.  

  - Why are you sad? - asked the tree.

 - Because I need things and I do not have money to buy them.

 - Do not suffer for that. Come: get in my arms, are loaded with apples, take the ones you want, take them to the market, sell them and you will have the money you need. And the tree was happy with the offering of its fruits in season! Time passed, time of solitude for the tree; but one morning his heart shuddered again with joy. The child, now a man, came back to him, yes, serious, thoughtful:  

  - What's wrong?

 - the tree asked -. Why are you sad? 

• Because I want to make myself a house and I do not have wood. 

• Do not suffer for that: take your ax and cut my branches more robust, make a house and be happy. He took the ax and cut off his arms swollen with sap from the tree. And a house was made on the edge of the forest. And the tree was happy with the offering of its wood! But the heart of man is not filled with things. Hungry to live in his little wooden house on the edge of the forest, the child of other times, mature man now, went back into the tangle of the jungle. When the tree saw him in the distance, he shuddered with joy and asked: 

  - I see you again sad, what's the matter with you, did not the wood get you? 

• Yes, but I'm bored of always seeing the same landscape, of always hearing the echo of my footsteps echoing over the wood. I have been told that far, far away, there are beautiful seas, dreamy landscapes, strange people, and I want to know them ... but I do not have a boat.  

  - Do not suffer for that. Take the ax again, cut my trunk to the ground and make yourself a boat. Then, with the few branches that I have left, make some oars and go sailing: you will know those beautiful seas, dreamy landscapes and strange people.   

  And the tree was happy with the offering of its trunk! A long time passed, so much so that the old, generous tree was barely breathing by some green shoots. Until one day, standing on the grass, he saw his old friend arrive. He almost did not recognize him: he turned gray, hesitant, aged.   

  - Come, old friend - invited the tree -. And now, what do you need?

 - Nothing, I do not need anything. I'm tired of traveling so much. Now I'm not looking for more than a quiet place to sit, look back and rest. 

• Come to me, - replied the old exhausted tree -. Come, sit on the trunk that you cut at ground level: it's the only thing I can offer you ... Rest. And the child of other times, old now, sat down and rested. The roots of the tree died happy with the last offering!   

  LÓPEZ ARRÓNIZ, Prudencio.