how you labour silently,
under blazing sun and silver moon,
straining, toiling,
nourishing your children
who reach towards the sky.
From you we have come,
to you we return,
as a sighing leaf
grows from the earth
and finally flutters to the ground.
When you sing, I am happy,
I find joy in you;
to run among your green pastures
but equally your rocky crags
jagged against the horizon.
Yet when you are sad,
when tears of rain bathe your wounds,
seared into your consciousness
by a self-willed hand,
I understand, my Earth.
to you we return,
as a sighing leaf
grows from the earth
and finally flutters to the ground.
When you sing, I am happy,
I find joy in you;
to run among your green pastures
but equally your rocky crags
jagged against the horizon.
Yet when you are sad,
when tears of rain bathe your wounds,
seared into your consciousness
by a self-willed hand,
I understand, my Earth.
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