Poetry

The year is full of the hot blue sky,
every spring flower has become fruit,
when the maturity of the summer appears
and gone is all the strife and pain.

There are joyful birds wherever I go,
giant oaks are decked in leaves in the lane
while the sun shines bright until the late afternoon
and gone is all the strife and pain.

When summer rain comes down fruitful,
days become illustrious,
while love shines on your face
and gone is all the strife and pain;

when God keeps my country in his palm,
when a time of neighbourly love unfolds,
when every thing that brings discord slowly disappears
and gone is all the strife and pain.