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When night falls and all is still
the frost descends (with the wolves) upon the lonely
In sepulchral mist their serenades begin
and their serenades will end
(with us bound together)
in the cold embrace of winter
Lupaea, my (beautiful) ashen pale moonlight
I'd hear their woeful songs...
As gathered more and more and more did they
in the cold embrace of winter
---
What has become of them and their beauty?
Their songs that rang through the lands of snow?
(Carried on the wind) and the mists swayed in time?
Gone??
Yes!!
---
NO!!!!!
I enjoyed their pain
...but the snow has melted
and the lambs frolic hand in hand in the first warm breaths of spring
Close their young eyes, winter
Once again
Let the mournful music of the snow return
---
But wait, maybe springtime holds something for me too
for I have too felt a bliss amongst the leaves
Yes, a nymph with the sweetest of voices called to me
But I stood rigid, frozen in fear
...But with such beauty in her voice she said
"Lay thine armour at my feet"
I did...
---
What craft was the trickery of the warm spring and her afterglow
Illusions?
Illusions!!
Aren't they all??
---
Now all the wolves did hear on a cold wind (was a small voice) calling "dear"
One small voice calling "dear"
in a serenade that is lost upon the wind...
...But what tears it cast into the snow!!!
