Pointing up the Mother’s grassland lap
Upon the hillock folds that green her skin
I sit in solitude, heart enwrapped
Looking at her upward feminine
Ascending slopes, a living, thriving gloam
That catches light upon her grassy nape
From Father sky who watches on his throne
And sends an azure blue for her landscape
A whispering windy prayer in noontime breeze
Fills my warmth in sun, the heritage
Of grasslands call that she alone can please
On ascending slopes, her foliage
Mark the path with heaven as the goal
On Her sloping way towards the soul.