Head Belly Root
L'Eglise Text Creative Commons License
The dark trees move gently
In the cold breeze
They seem to wave goodbye
To the setting sun

I tighten my coat and walk
With my back to the wind
Along the extended misty meadows
Towards the canal

The pale light of afterglow fails
I turn around:
Orange and dark blue
Beyond the trees

Birds like small grey spots
On the dark-blue sky
Fly accross the quiet picture
Towards the south

Only the cold assures me
It's not a dream
It seems time doesn't pass at all
Don't expect anything to happen