May you get around me in the green alpine tree.
Away from the noises and rumours of our broken city
Come here, O come here to this floating island dale
In my view, it offers a sea of tranquility, whisper
Sweet quail song sitting so pretty good on the
Windy tree, in our central city, everything is worse off
Come to this valley fair and square come here
Oh, come here into this newly glen, I swear.
O life is only here; fear not the
rough weather
Of lonely hills, the spring pushes
sooner
To the holly wells, the sun never fades here.
And the way is made with sublime scenes.
O fine breeze! I descend here from a city of blind greed,
Where the crime incidents grew with clock speed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem