MY NATIVE LAND - Poem

[Kodzoquo]

MY NATIVE LAND
You are the height that raised us high,
Quite often higher than earthly fame.
You're a cherry branch, whose petals fly,
Whose bloom is an unfamiliar flame.

You're all the past and present of bread,
The past and present of the hearth.
You drink the dawn sky's cup of red,
With snow's white tablecloth beneath.

You lifted up with praise the deed,
And therefore it is no surprise -
Your dreams are full of prophetic seed,
Your waking hours - their valour lies.

You will not start to vainly swear;
You live, and count hot words not worth.
To me, a true Caucasian here,
My native land, you've given birth.

I'd like to break in herds you've bred,
Bold horses on your upland heath,
And drink the dawn sky's cup of red,
With snow's white tablecloth beneath.