|
The night all winds were still |
|
And silence lay weightly on the soil |
|
By a water sat a voiceless man |
|
Alone by the moonlit mirror |
|
He looked to the horizon with a mournful heart |
|
In remembrance of what had been |
|
Still he could sence the smoke |
|
Of the countless pyres by the stone |
|
He let his hands carees the black ground |
|
Among this urn's' dark ashes lies memories of past times hidden |
|
Ruins of the times gone by |
|
Once all this was his... |
|
His name had been carved in stone |
|
His image bore into battle |
|
But his men were defeated |
|
And his temple burned... |
|
This mournful man keep silent |
|
For the faith in him is gone |
|
And the land he fought to defend |
|
Has withered in his abscense |
|
But still some hearts burn with rage |
|
For the desecration of this land |
|
Some praise his name at night, |
|
Some hail his image high... |
|
And the man knows: |
|
No lost battle will be forgotten |
|
In this timeless war |
|
His name had been carved in stone |
|
His image bore into battle |
|
But his men were defeated |
|
And his temple burned... |
|
This mournful man keep silent |
|
For the faith in him is gone |
|
And the land he fought to defend |
|
Has withered in his abscense |
