I have looked at this land

When the light risen from the bottom of the sea
is just starting to tremble in the east,
I have looked at this land,
I have looked at this land.

When the hawk takes away the light of the sky
on the mountain that closes the west,
I have looked at this land,
I have looked at this land.

While the sick night gasps,
and mouths of darkness nibble at the paths,
I have looked at this land,
I have looked at this land.

When the rain brings the smell of dust
from the rough leaves of distant chaste-trees,
I have looked at this land,
I have looked at this land.

When the wind talks in the loneliness
of my dead who laugh at being always together,
I have looked at this land,
I have looked at this land.

While I grow old in the long struggle
of ploughing through my memories,
I have looked at this land,
I have looked at this land.

When summer extends over the sleeping field
the wide silence spread by the crickets,
I have looked at this land,
I have looked at this land.

While the wise fingers of blind men understand
how winter strips the vine shoots of sleep,
I have looked at this land,
I have looked at this land.

When the unharnessed horse power
of the flood suddenly comes down the river beds,
I have looked at this land,
I have looked at this land.