My gaze flickering across this landscape divine -
a whirlwind of sentiments unfolds.
Yet a single word echoes across my mind:
mine, mine, mine.
These hills, these trees, the distant shore,
as sure as the breeze caressing the steeple:
they are part of me, and more -
I am at home, safe, with my people.
I feel it, I know it, the comfort it sings -
whispers of safety, a lullaby to my broken wings:
familiar and gentle, deep in my bones,
the ancestry calling from ancient white stones.
Rosemary, lavender, olives, and fig trees,
they tell me of history, of proud victories;
of battles, of sadness, of stories untold,
the generations with lingering spirits of old.
This is my land, I belong here;
the soft hum of time; a smile and a tear.
Visignano, Istria (Croatia)
(Latin, mea terra = my land)