Pitkät pellot [English translation]

There are our long fields

there's our hay field

Roof tops gather moss

stone cowsheds and grey barns

To highways, to railways, when the birds return to the fields.

My father's long fields don't support me anymore

My mother's groaning table doesn't feed me anymore

As long as I stay away from this road

As long as I miss you

And I ask you to stay away

and very quickly it's October again

The yards and backwoods become desolate

The houses on the beach become desolate

The din of the sky sweeps high

Will I ever get used to the whirl of the world?

To the highways, to the railways, when the birds return to the fields