In the century of anger and steel,
under the ice of the winter wind,
a flower of affection
rich in a garden of Veron,
not a gardeners hand
to take thorns from it
, not a warm light of the sun
in the season of snow,
rain, O anemone, the flower of the story
with you, my stronghold and my way in the
rain of winter, I
remember you behind and shelter
, if loneliness and sorrow
have taken away your hope and hope from you, the cloud of
hope and whiteness of
the enemy of the black night
, O anemones, anemones, anemones, the flowers of the story of
anemones, anemones, The anemone, the flower of the story,
its leaf wrapped
around it in this burning of the executioner,
the stem, but it is firmly planted
in the soil, mud and steel,
the dream of freedom and its growth is
wrapped in its veins and
roots, restless but patient
, tired of all this injustice
, O anemone, the flower of the story is
with you, my stronghold and my way
in the rain of winter, I
remember you behind and shelter
, if loneliness and sorrow
have taken away your hope and hope from you, the
cloud of hope and whiteness of
the enemy of the black night
, O anemones, anemones, anemones,
anemones, anemones, anemones, anemones, anemones
,
