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Self Deluding

de Primitive Blast

The oak - forest is singing and calling me
Listen and see my pale hair spreading scarcely on the scrub
Ancient consecrated ground mossy boulders
Sentinels all - round are trees
A spark i give you from my own face
So light a fierce fire touch lightly my heart
The woodspirits are swelling and spilling songs everywhere
They flutter in circle
And draw an eminent language on broken branches
And everyone hears from the wood a song like this :
Disclosing day of great battles
Where the heroes had fallen killed
Eagles had circled high in the heavens
And today still keep holy the times
The trees are dreadfull and immence
Resembling the monstrous warriors
Once had straied out these lands
Among the oaks lie their souls…

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