Orphans

I now describe my country

As if to strangers

This train is full of songs

Of local winnersAnd the wind surrounds the towers

The flags, they are blowing

And the bunting and the distance

Stretches over our soundAnd when he teases the children

He calls them orphans

And he cries for all the flowers

Of the forestIn his head there is no reason

To be sad about the garden

But his heart bleeds very often

Things forgotten like little orphans

Little orphans