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 ,
