the gray forest people cast
off their old clothes
good-bye
everything's sleeping as winter
draws near
so close your eyes
the mists of all twilights
dance close at hand
the rust-coloured river is
now slowing down
going dry
harvest has lifted the crown
from the ground
but don't you cry
the song of the seasons brings
life to the land
| Marco Giunco |
| Work | Basket | Music | Words |