Mine is a meadow of people’s woes,
Mine is a meadow where sweet grass grows!
Scythe, clear a way, dear scythe, hurray!
Mournfully singing, hear my scythe ring,
Forged of pain, hammered by suffering.
Scythe, clear a way, dear scythe, hurray!
Meadows are flowering, poor folk sigh.
The song of the scythe echoes every cry.
Scythe, clear a way, dear scythe, hurray!
Misery’s more than some folk can take…
My song’s a summons: Lithuania, awake!
Scythe, clear a way, dear scythe, hurray!
My song the ploughman hears with a thrill,
Banishing sorrow, steeling his will.
Scythe, clear a way, dear scythe, hurray!
Steeling his will for a trial of strength,
Like the scythe in the song, he’ll go the whole length!
Scythe, clear a way, dear scythe, hurray!
(Liudas Gira)
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Based on Topics: Sadness Poems, Joy & Excitement Poems, Cry Poems, Pain Poems, People Poems, Singing Poems, Suffering PoemsBased on Keywords: steeling, banishing, hurray, lithuania