The mountains high,
Against the blue canvas,
Winged creatures fly,
Around the bright, round candle.
The green die, they are reborned,
To flourish the land,
To the very end.
The strokes of time,
Scars the rocky lands,
With untold stories,
Untold to man,
Each scratch, each crack,
Tells a tale,
A tale unknown to man.
Carpets of water,
Curve and bend,
Giver of life,
To creature and land,
Soft tinkling laughter,
Of friendly little men,
They work and play,
Till the day reaches its end.
Forests of silver and glass,
See them grow,
But the forests of green and splendour,
They do not go,
The rise with harmony,
They rise together,
In a land of mystery,
In Malaysia,
Sarawak, Borneo.