"What are you to me, grim pine-forested lands, Wilderness of the Carpathian Mountains
I may admire you, but I don't love you, And my thoughts don't wander in your valleys
Down on the plains, flat as the sea, There I feel at home, that's my world
My soul an eagle, freed from its prison When I see the never ending fields."
Sándor Petőfi: The Plains (excerption)