My home is far, My home is far,
Oh mother earth can't you see?
I've wondered too far?
With the running sea,
Yet, from my past I cannot flee.
My home is over the mountains,
With a pointed finger, I cannot trace, the joy of returning I cannot contain,
I cannot continue with this race,
Till I return home, to find true grace.
My home is loved,
And there, there's no hate,
It feels like looking at the sky above,
Where the stars replace all my date,
To every memory my heart relate.
My home is time,
My place of birth,
But now a land so dim,
That I almost forgot,
About the amazing beauty of the first.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem