Upon his land lives the peace
Where the ray of Moon bathes
In the falling leaves of the trees
Representing an ancientness
On his back is the burden of eternity.
His song is roaming paths in the wilderness
As incalculably as a blind animal
Living under the ground
Craving a way for itself
Though starts with an aimlessness
It does find the asylum finally
Smells not of the end
Washing his hands
In the water of the crook
Pouring from the mountain
Drifting time and wisdom
Defending life itself.
It awakens new thoughts
In his silented soul.
Bearing something from the world…
Perhaps a treasure
Covered by riddle and twilight
Defended by a power undestroyable?
There
High above
In the mountains
In the forsaken fields
Swept by wind
In an eternal familiarity
Disturbed by nothing and no one
The word of the old wiseman
Pays hommage to the Universe…
…to it’s unbreakable beauty.
An eternal life.