The ghost:
My awakening was sweet.
Images of the past remains.
These paintings under my feet,
They call the forthcoming rains.
I remember I lived,
And my thoughts has derived,
Over the landscape before me,
Under the mists I always see.
The melancholy:
Walking in the fields again,
For me it was in vain.
The ghost:
I didn't know why,
Why my presence was high,
Over the landscape before me,
Under the mists I always see.
The darkness:
In this day.
The ghost:
To find a special place I've seen,
This river along the last path,
The darkness:
I'll walk with the wind so clean.
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