Although the memories aren't immortalize
Although the memories aren't immortalized in books,
I ride away on my trusty steed with every look.
I glance back at the place I used to roam,
Where the fields whispered secrets beneath the golden dome.
The streets of my hometown now a distant blur,
But the memories linger, vivid and pure.
Every ten years, I'm drawn back to that place,
Where the echoes of the past I can never erase.
Looking back at my hometown feels like a dream,
Through the mist of time, a sentimental stream.
In the melodies of a foreign land, I find solace,
With my eyes chasing wild geese in the cold embrace.