In the land where clouds wear canvas robes,
My country, both wild and serene,
The sky becomes an artist’s dream,
Painting landscapes as nature unfolds.

Crimson sunsets blaze across the sky,
Violet mountains kiss the horizon's edge.
Golden wheat fields bow, swaying in the wind,
Reflecting the hues of the da if y's last sigh.

Emerald forests beckon with open arms,
Whispering secrets of ancient tales.
Rivers, with their silver tongues, cascade,
Carving paths through earth's ancestral charms.

Clouds, like paintbrushes on a vast canvas,
Sweep strokes of white upon a sapphire sky,
Creating masterpieces beyond the eye,
A symphony of colors and light so endless.

My country dances under this celestial art,
Bathed in sunflowers' vibrant embrace.
From coast to coast, its beauty, a grace,
A testament to the love within each heart.

Yet, amidst this beauty, let’s not forget,
The people who call this land their own.
Their stories, woven in every stone,
Their resilience, the tapestry not to regret.

For my country is a masterpiece untold,
A haven where dreams are born and grown,
Where clouds embrace a canvas unknown,
And its people hold the colors in their soul.
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