Up, on the sky so gay,
Shines the sun every day.
My heart heard it say,
That we owned its every ray.
Hot, and not less it was,
Unlike sorrow which was sparse.
Hectic work it was for trees,
For all the shadow animals seize.
Though it dried every drop of rain.
Nothing it did to my dreams,
Of meeting every joyful lane
And the long sundried streams.
Summer my love, where do you go?
Making way for the farmers to sow,
Taking away my dreams,
My happiness and joy to receive the streams.