The guava shades our little playground from the scorching sun.
The flowers fall on our heads and look like a fine bride.

There is a family of brown-green mantises on the leaves of the guava,
savoring the sweet fragrance of the flower and the open air.

The guava is our citadel; it protects the termites and bees
and the flora that grew below her foot; she shows benevolence.

The fruits are sweet, ah- she drops them for the hungry children
When the day draws to the end, her strong stem becomes a support to the weak.

In the airy evening, the guava stands out like a solitary king,
shading the grey moonlight from our dark faces and lean bodies.

In the morning, the dews descend on her peaceful quietness.
The wind plays with her, wooing and waking her to a new day’s song.