I see a tree

I'm longing to the old land I used to have,
To the fields of gold, to the roads I crave.
To the knolls of green, to the sky of grey,
Back there, on the hills, where I used to play.

There are no more knolls; there are no more trees,
No fields of gold, no more humming bees.
Where the times were spent, where the golden fields were,
Now there are only voices of war.

I see a lonely tree where once there was a grove,
Where there were the bushes, the place I love.
All of that's torn apart, no more memories,
Only this lonely dying tree…