Cry not o' mother,
For it is to bring peace that I am gone,
The land will feed me
And the sea shall rock my cradle of stone
And if I don't come,
Spring still shall return
The birds of autumn shall see me
As all shall bow down before winter
But when spring shall prevail,
My grave thou will make,
And I'll become the small boy
I once was,
And so shall I live on in thine memory
A hope, a joy, a dream...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
So beautiful... brought tears to my eyes: '(... yet I love it!