I’ll get off at the distant station

I’ll get off at the distant station, the grass to my waist
And it’s good to face the truth
To wander in the fields worrying about nothing
In the cornflower blue silence,

To loaf around in the fields worrying about nothing
In the cornflower blue silence

I’ll get off at the distant station, the smell of honey will come,
I’ll get drunk with living water next to a crane,
Everything’s mine here, and we, and our origin is here,
And cornflowers, and me, and poplars.

I’ll get off at the distant necessary station,
I’ll look into my childhood from a high branch,
You, let me again please, let me, my native land,
To be dedicated in this silence.