On the great land, very white, is pure proud snow,
                                  On the tree branches, very thick, is white puffed cotton.
                                  A blue sky, shimmering, makes the tall spruces brilliant,
                                  A wondrous realm, at ease, is my old homeland.
                                  Would that the campaign is already drumming victorious n’
                                  Returning north with splendid words I tell my aged Mom!