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Oh prairie, endless prairie,
The eyes of the herdsmen look out:
Not a bush, not a thistle, not a tree,
A new wind comes to the desert.
Over forlorn expanses the song of the herdsmen
Will sound and…
Shepherds had dug a well in the field
but herds of others encircled it.
They left, roaming the mountain trails,
the shepherds who had dug it.
Oh, oh, oh! Desert oases . . .
the lanes of the herd…
Where everyone travels, in the middle of the road,
there is a wonderful flower.
It’s been lying there and rotting for several days now.
The wind blows it around,
and it cries out and weeps a great…