Ah, my god how I was done wrong.
To whom can I complain when I am an orphan?
In the Strážnice cemetery there grows a little bush
and there lies my old father.
In the Strážnice cemetery is a beautiful dove
and there rests my dear mother.
Ah, love, love
well, its never stable
like water between the riverbanks.
Water flows
love passes
like dew on a clover.
All landscape photographs by Miloš Spurný. Used courtesy of Věra Spurná and the Moravian Gallery in Brno.