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.