@Letty,
Sorry for the chat and thanks for the Brell song. :-) It's a Dutch (Flemish) version of "Le Plat Pays", about Brell's native Belgium. I don't speak Flemish but here is my feeble translation attempt based on the French text:
The Flat Country
With the North Sea as its last wasteland
And waves of dunes to stop the waves
And some vague rocks overcome by the tides
And whose heart is always at low tide
With infinite mists to come
With the west wind, hear it hold on
The flat country which is mine
With cathedrals as its only mountains
And black spires as mats of plenty
Where stone devils grasp at the clouds
With the passing days as its only voyage
And pathes of rain as its only goodnight
With the east wind, hear it want
The flat country which is mine
With a sky so low that a channel got lost
With a sky so low it forces humility
With a sky so grey a channel hung itself
With a sky so grey it must be forgiven
With the north wind, which comes tearing apart
With the north wind, hear it crack
The flat country which is mine
With Italy which would flow down the Scheldt
With Frida the Blonde when she becomes Margot
When the sons of November come back to us in May [wheat planting and harvest times]
When the plain is steaming and trembles in July
When the wind is laughing, when the wind is of wheat
When the wind blows from south, listen to it sing
The flat country which is mine
