Serugium

My native soil's Serugium,
 * Where flows the stream of happiness.

The produce there of high esteem:
 * The mart of plenty justly nam'd.

The waters exquisitely sweet:
 * Like those that spring from paradise.

The deserts to the eye appear,
 * Like verdant meadows beautiful.

Th'inhabitants and houses shine,
 * Like stars and starry mansions bright.

The air they breath delicious smells:
 * The prospect pleasing, large and wide.

The highest hills are strew'd with flow'rs,
 * When once the sun dissolves the snow.

Visit Serugium - you'll see
 * The feat of this world's paradise.

Serugium