Beloved country! Heart is filled up
With a dream about the sun-stacks,
Merged in water. I would like far
In the greens to be mislaid.
By the path and the boundary
Mignonettes, a clover is growing
As a chasuble; the willows
As the nuns in beads are knocking.
Bog is smoking in clouds,
Burnt out as the heaven's yoke.
In my heart I've hided silence
For someone - a secret thought.
All I meet and all accept I,
I'm glad to dig out soul.
I have come to native country
Quickly then to leave it, though...
1914