Look, land, how we have been great squanderers!

In your bosom, a blessed lodging, a hidden dwelling, a covered seed...no more

Pearls of glassiness of buckwheat, a heavy seed of wheat

A grain of barley, an orange cat, anxious oats.

 

Look, land, how we have been great squanderers:

Wild flowers we have buried fresh and in glory

Which the sun kissed withits first kiss

Secreting grace with a beautiful corncob, incense was covered correctly

And until they knew afternoon in fact there was innocent sorrow

And before they had had their fill of the morning dew in light of dreams they sprouted

 

Here you are the best of our sons, youth pure of dreams

Clear of heart, clean of hands, still not the scum of the earth

And weave their day while there is still warp; weave hopes for the day to come

We have no better than them. Do you see? And where?

 

And you will cover all of them, make the plant more efficient in its season!

One hundred gates of glory and strength, sacred to the people of the homeland!

Blessed is their sacrifice in the secret of death, denying our life in glory.....

See, land, how we have been great squanderers!