Ancient Hills
Boldly slashing the horizon
Your distant blue peaks
great
beacons
Beacons of hope, beacons
of love
Beacons of unyielding
greatness
Beacons of strength.
From you spring our noble
gardens
Of smiling blue roses
Growing defiantly on bare
rocks
Steadily sparring many giant
thorns.
These ancient hills
Motherly cradling a
pampered
race
Of me, of you, of these
steadfast
people
Proudly flooding the promise
land.
I cry within a foreign soil
For just another sip of your
gentle
river
But soon, yes soon
When the winds blow south
I shall find my way once more
To your homely sunlit
summit.
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