dusk emerges in cyan shades slowly from the depths of the soil stones accost the inner you hue of blue inspires one of stone from the cold soil from the soul of cone from the flowers of mushroom
the waters heave a tone in wind´s breeze the night enhances dance for the last time when they call you no words to bid a farewell winds are calling to the death ahead grant me wings up to the stars i will soar to the sparkling dance of the nightsky
one from haze from the dusk of twilight from the sign of gale from the spirits of ether a bed of moss to lie down and die surrounded with beard lichen the pond stays still