Poesia
Roots
Like the oak with lots of knots and tight growth rings,
you can count over years and years.
Here, where the depth of roots only counts.
A story that has been passed down over the generations.
Can you hear how my country breathes?
The roots grew from the blood spots of your ancestors and got tight into this stone.
Listen, you have a reason.
Don't ask how long.
Your worldly goods are here.
Your cradle broke into these rocks.
Don’t allow your dreams to be shattered!
With sweet‐talking and gentlemanly stories.
You are a cragsman son of a rough highlander.
Here is your soul in these mountain crags.