Through the dark night silent song fly in With an antique story enweaved Old man's voice only whispering with the Wind As string of lute shiver.
In olden days happened Those dark gods sent to man a gift Which nobody understand, which nobody want Gift really singular, sovereign.
Long since in dust turned Last who knew it and dreamt of it Northern winds to its southern brothers Only sings and blows of him.
Through barren hallway of ruined castles In deep woods, in diadems of trees Sounds woeful song of oblivion About what was and might be
Withheld was gift, oblivion is Voice shivers as string of lute Elves sings about man who were scorn With Blessing of intellect to its children Only gales, rock and deep woods know....
I am going out of the silver shadows, sitting down dazed under the tree, I see stark land, empty souls, silence fall around. Lad and gal hold on to their arms and go away through bloody dew, do you hear?