The misty mournful landscapes, the mystic enchantments of the ancients,
Secrecies of time, unwind nature's ambiguity,
Grasped by the arms of winter, together with the cold breeze of despair,
The lamenting wind blows, breath inside my flesh,
I ride the winds of silence, to the immortal lakes of serenity,
Alone in this languid light, I am unleashed in a world of apathy.

As the gardens wept for me, the rusty gates opened free.