For all the ages of this earth,
Before the stars did shine
And the sun did sail
We stood among these trees,
Beneath the bough of oak and beech,
Under the rain and under the moon,
Always prevailing, always believing.
But what do we hope for now?
This world is changed, and the forest
Is no longer a laughing place,
But a malignant sprit in the dense darkness
Of this world.
And I fear we shall soon
Believe no more,
Nor live at the mountain’s root
Nor see the stars.
For as we, they fade into the past.