Once upon a well remembered time,
there was a quiet, distant land
where the wind had forgotten to blow
and the gaze of the gods had furtively gone.
Dreadful trees unsuccesfully tried to glance the sky
below that cinder coloured endless sheet,
unaware of the clouds' sudden slide away,
sadly crepitating wooden tears.
Despite that severe painful punishment
imposed by our angry stormy gods
hope was to come, clear with the sunrise,
along with horseshoes steps on the ground.
With the rise of the sun
the time had come
for the one to awoke,
the rider of the dawn.
It's enough to have such a brave man
riding quite a noble horse through our trees
to regard the beauty of the cinder forest,
the godforsaken land of our memories.
With the rise of the sun
the time had come
for the one to awoke
our sadly crying trees.
Once upon a well remembered time,
there was a quiet, distant land
where the wind has now returned to blow
and the gaze of the gods is staring with a moan.
