I look up; The mighty ships Drift slowly hither. They stop for a while, Looming over the plains Attacking the fields, And the meadows, And the gardens. A beautiful attack, Alleviating despair. The fresh scent of the Earth And fragrances from the new blooms Fill the air; It is as if this landscape Just learned of colour. But the ships anchor not, For they must bring life and hope elsewhere too, And they drift slowly thither.