June 5, 1972 on Hill 378 overlooking
The Meuse Valley
We sat in our shady forest place
Not far from a field where daisies grew
And on the soft moss, we laid out a sheet
While all the birds sang, and soft breezes blew.
We looked at the fields and heard the birds’ song,
Oh, it was so perfect, oh nothing was wrong.
Our picnic of bread, wine, fruit, and cheese
With daisies and buttercups, green trees and breeze.
The bottle of wine, it was “Côte-du-Rhône”
And a taste on our lips and a pledge of our own.
We ate the good food, we breathed in the wine,
We toasted our freedom; we toasted our time.
The cattle were grazing not far from our place,
With heads of black ivory and bodies of grace.
The seas of green flowed about this spot that we chose,
Like the river below us, the winding blue Meuse.
We watched the cows moving and felt their quiet pace,
We picked a few daisies, we had smiles on our face.
You ran in the meadow, the wind in your hair,
The freedom of springtime, the freedom from care.
The chain of spring daisies you put over your head,
A token of togetherness, and the joy we were wed.
We held hands in the meadow, we gazed at the flowers,
We laughed at our playing; we treasured the hours.
With birds all a-twitter and the buzzing of bees,
We beckoned to Nature, she blessed us with ease.
The child that she gave us, the child of our love,
The forest around us, the blue sky above.
We press close to each other with the shade of the trees,
No other life could we wish for or please.
So now the sun falls in orange and gold,
And kisses the green valley so our story is told.
The distant coo-coo bids us good day,
The shadows are purple, the light slips away.