Hartvíkovice

There used to be a campsite,

Place that would just invite

You to return,

Watch the campfire burn,

Play the guitar and sing the night away.

All in all a feast, joy and holiday,

Forests, waters, grass, harvest air,

And almost a love affair.

Game as such over. Those days are gone and out of reach.

The decades created an abyss

And no bridge.