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Gracious Sibulca, fair maid who sits on the bank
of the Rhine, who watched as cities rose and fell,
as armies took and lost the land, as kings and chieftains
shook their shields and soldiers shed their blood; always
were you the shelter and the shield of those who called
your name in prayer, always you sustained the earth
and those who worked it, always you provided
sustenance and solace to those who turned to you
in times of desolation and despair. Sibulca,
yours are the lowlands, the fertile plain, yours the boon
of a gentle clime, a people diligent and wise.
Sibulca, I praise your name and honor your might.
Fieldstones 