The artist paints all the leaves on trees green once again

The flowers of hope wither in abandoned fields
The wind brings tunes from faraway mountain villages

Day performs her last notes, summer writes his last stanzas

From the moist lips of the night fall stars
Into the river’s mouth turning it brilliant gold

Tall shadows lurk over empty forest paths
Reflections sleep on the brink of seas

The rain of oblivion falls onto her soul,
Splitting their hands from one another

The trees carry me into the never-ending sky
And from their tips I see the pious moon

The night’s wings guide me through the silence
To the otherworldly song sung from a distant summit