Senybėj medžiai uturdavo (Why do trees not speak?)

In the olden days, the trees used to talk back.
When one would go, it used to be,
When they go to cut them down, they will beg, beg, beg, beg,
So as not to cut them
That there is already a lot of backlog
At their request
Used to say: “oh, don't you cut me, leave me alone
Leave me, go to the next one.”
The one who goes to the other asks not to cut them.
In order for this not to happen,
God made it so that they could not talk back.

Uosį vadina neregiu (The Blind Ash)

The ash is called blind
That it explodes later;
Whereas before it sheds its leaves
Spring
When other trees explode
In the spring he will ask:
“Is it time to explode?
Is it time?”
The trees respond mockingly:
“It’s early, it’s not time.”
After some time
He will ask again
The trees laugh in response:
“It’s a stupid tree, we exploded a long time ago
And he is not yet ready.”
Then the ash with its strikes exploded
In the autumn the ash tree will ask again:
“Is it time to shed the leaves?”
“We have been leafless for a long time,”
Answers the trees
Mocking the blind tree
Although they all have leaves
The ash believes, believes
The ash tree believes the other trees and drops its leaves before the others

Vai ąžuole (Oh, oak tree)

Oh oak, oak, green oak.
Do you need to grow green or lay down after being cut?
Or brother, brother, young brother
You should grow green, not lay down after being cut.
Or oak, oak, to be our dear father.
Your green forks with white little hands
Your green little leaves with the kindest words.
Or brother, brother, young brother
Let the green one grow, to unbroken lie still.
Here, where there are forests, green meadows, let the little oak trees live.