5
Who dreamed that city passes like a dream?
For squalor area o squabble
Mournful that no new wonders may betide
We and the laboring world are passing by
Strive with squalor; stream of lie
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers
10
Doth rustic, we appreciate thee
The cooling scorned of distress
Where flamboyant life exists and resist
My mother land, my land
The land of honour
Life of humility
Life full of unexposed diversity
Life of ignorance
O! my country people, let us stand and speak with one voice
A rustic life like an old cottage full of rusticity
15
Weep no more, country people
We have been deprived and soaked
From all scuntinity of life fortune and glory
And our senses are now open to
the scent of thy forest
To the lovely charm of thy water
Life sleeks with splendor of thy beauty like Marie-chantal
20 Thou shall excel and blossom like the peak of
the proud mountains
I welcome and received thee
My mother’s land
The land in which I was spring forth
The land of my destiny. i salute thee
Till my deepest departure!
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