The looming mountains in  the  greenish gray,

 look down upon generations in their worldly sway.

On this common day in a fair spring,

to the Grand Citygate the gentle wind is whispering.

Since we were born daughters and sons,

each of us is to have his or her life and love to enjoy.

Strolling in the sun's fading light,

why not let us all sing  a song for the  idyllic delight.