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Wind sweeps through the forest |
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It sweeps through valleys and mountains |
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It stops and casts its eyes over the peak |
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And looks inquiringly when it trances me down |
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I don't speak and nor do the wind |
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It's just standing and looking at the landscape |
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Solitude takes my thoughts |
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I feel quite well in this way |
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But my soul is tired |
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Then it rises and regains strength |
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It entreats me to fly with |
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Through valleys and mountains |
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It asks me to soar before the sun rises |
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To take advantage of darkness and night |
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Since then |
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I've been one with the landscape |
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And it has become one with me too |
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Since then |
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I've been one with the darkness |
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Which is a vital element for me |
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Since then |
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I just stand here and |
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I see everything |
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As the others are carried from peak to peak |
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As the wind stain the world |
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As they sink out honour to the depth of hell |
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I look around. |
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We have remained few in place |
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The others have flown away, wither their interest hoping for better |
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But I see that we're still firm |
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And like sand, the wind carries the others |
