While caraway and buttercups
Grow thick beside the Levuo,
I'll go into the meadows. Will
They go on living when I go?

These meadows white and yellow-hued
Are the earth's words and nothing else.
Their gentle flutter on this dawn
Is dear to me as the sound of bells.

I'll walk into the meadow now
And listen to their whispered speech.
Each eye-like buttercup, each flower
Like lights of home my heart will reach.

While caraway and buttercups
Grow thick beside the Levuo,
I'll walk into the meadows. Will
This joy keep living when I go?