Children, my beloved child
Love your land, when it is wild
As its rivers
are your veins
for its waters
are your blood
and its dark trees
are your black hair
and the white skin
is its fine dust
where you trample on it
there you’ll rest in it
from there you will be born again
fresh flowers of the meadow.
Remember:
in this world everything
is bound with tiny string
invisible but as strong as silk
pure and white as pure mother’s milk
that embraces you as a glove
an ever stronger hug of love