When the forest moon
paints the river and the mountain
and another winter without pain
lays its wings on your land.
You are already dreaming of long seasons
and unripe apples to give as gifts
to those who wait for you without speaking
in your dark rock castle.
After winter, spring
wakes things up with its rain
while your eyes closed in sleep
are waiting for his call.
God of the leaves!
God of the valley!
He thanks you for this sleep
let the fate is not cruel
for your ever faithful son.

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