the gray forest people cast
off their old clothes
good-bye
everything's sleeping as winter
draws near
so close your eyes
the mists of all twilights
dance close at hand
the rust-coloured river is
now slowing down
going dry
harvest has lifted the crown
from the ground
but don't you cry
the song of the seasons brings
life to the land
Marco Giunco |
Work | Basket | Music | Words |