Behind the sharp-clawed peak of rocks The sands were whispering a story: In former times, a long ago The blooming garden turned to stone. And three stars lighted sky that day, And clouds filled the Moonlight's way.
While even silence dissappeared Ships had to ground emptiness To mix with nothing, with the void. There's nobody: no more, no less.
And cried with moan mother Earth And raised her hands in flamy waves