I hear the voices of the trees which crown The mountains, resting upon the Wooden cloak. the tired and numb... Leaving the blood running Through my veins, and feeling The sound of thoughts Flowing like the boulder's river. The soul of forest shave me and trespass me His wisdom and visions. The path get's loss in the fanthomless Darkness of the night, and left look it's rake to Those eyes which beholds from The high. inclement, marble astral domes. I summon the spirits of forefathers to reach The stars, the strenght of those Who felt in the uproar of battle.