The sound had brought me forth And far I had come over dirt, over stone Even further, the sighing voice would lead me Through summer, to the rustling of the autumn leaves
Where in colours of death the earth would greet me In the lengthening shade of the shortening days To bathe in black soil, to slumber in those halls To sleep solemnly
There, the echoes still shrill and strong Where the sprites of old earth chant their secret song Further I trailed that frail whispering voice To the threshold of wintertime's black frozen soil
Awakened by the creaking of the naked trees Deafened no longer I did hear them speak Secrets of the earth in riddled strange tongue And in those words it was that my soul was undone
Told in tones like faint whispers of the wind Laughter in colours and shades evergreen Their voice was that of rolling thunder Falling of leaves and the weeping of rain