We are so frail and helpless that we have no power against the gardener; wherever he placed or planted us, we simply remained there motionless like a tree.

The poet compares human helplessness to that of a tree, completely at the mercy of the gardener's decisions. In this metaphor, the gardener represents fate, society, or an overwhelming authority against whom the frail individual stands no chance. There is a quiet, touching melancholy here—a realization that wherever destiny chose to root us, we simply accepted our place and endured.