The cold ***** is standing in darkness
But the south of the trees is dry to the touchThe heavy limbs climb into the moonlight bearing feathers
I came to watch these
White plants older at night
The oldest
Come first to the ruinsAnd I hear magpies kept awake by the moon
The water flows through its
Own fingers without endTonight once more
I find a single prayer and it is not for men
But the south of the trees is dry to the touchThe heavy limbs climb into the moonlight bearing feathers
I came to watch these
White plants older at night
The oldest
Come first to the ruinsAnd I hear magpies kept awake by the moon
The water flows through its
Own fingers without endTonight once more
I find a single prayer and it is not for men
