The wind is strong, he wrings the trees
Tries all his tricks to make them fall
Fighting hard against that wrath
They break and fall in the raging squall
The reeds are slender, weak, and soft
They bow their heads in the face of the storm
Giving in to the rage that smites
They survive in their weakest form
When the wind is strong and the storm is prime
Don’t stand like a tree in its wrathful face
Think of the reeds that survive the storm
It’s fine to bend before you break