I'll go down by the lake
where all the white horses go
and among the dancing waves
I will throw my land,
all the promises broken long time ago,
all the territories nobody knows.
If you come by the lake
where the white wood has grown,
tell the white mountain king
I lie with ghosts
while their shadows are drifting,
and willows and pines
You'll hear my voice calling
under the lake.

INVIA LE CORREZIONI