Welcome my beloved mountains,
Welcome O my river dear!
I used to be so far away,
But now again I am so near.
Crowds of people stood between us,
And the hubbub of the street;
And the patience farcical
That oft in sacrifice we meet.
Those are all remote domains,
Wilderness, and sterile waste;
Ruptured only by the longings
That my soul to you still haste.
My grief has brought me back to you,
So I am standing by your side,
O mountains, and I’m listening to
The waters’ murmur deep and wide.
Yes! I am hiking, looking, listening...
How beautifully is all arranged!
And I am seeking to find out
If anything, since then, has changed.
Nothing, only in a roadside cabin
A friend of mine has died of age,
Withered are the willows two
That used to guard the springtide’s stage.
Upon our olden ash-trees though
New leaves again have densely grown,
Yellow buttercups are shining
Among the greening grass unmown.
And from the fields I feel now blowing
Eternity’s creative breeze
That into life transforms all death,
And puts my thoughts again at ease.
Welcome my beloved mountains,
Welcome O my river dear!
I used to be so far away,
But now again I am so near.


Original: | ![]() This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1927. It may be copyrighted outside the U.S. (see Help:Public domain). ![]() |
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Translation: | ![]() This work is released under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 2.0 license, which allows free use, distribution, and creation of derivatives, so long as the license is unchanged and clearly noted, and the original author is attributed. |