Beneath the ancient oaks’ embrace,
Where gentle streams weave their song,
The golden fields stretch wide in grace,
In nature’s arms, I belong.
The morning mist, a soft caress,
Over hills where wildflowers bloom,
In every breeze, a sweet finesse,
Dispelling night’s gentle gloom.
The skylark sings its morning hymn,
As sunlight dances on the lea,
In harmony with the earth’s own rhythm,
A symphony of wild and free.
As twilight falls on quiet lanes,
The stars awaken, one by one,
In the heart of nature, love remains,
Until the new day’s dawn is spun.