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Over white mountains and black rivers
above green valleys and blue creeks
The essense of our ancestors fleet

Past yellow glades and dark forests
– and the grey cloud in the pure sky
the shadow of the black and white eagle fly

And throughout all over the world
through the soft grass on the meadow
The whispers of the Elders still flow

Beneath the warm sun and the cold moon
below the sea of stars way up high
The ancient trees grasp for the sky

It is the shadows of an ancient time
– echoes of what once used to be
Nothing more than a silent memory

© Sirenia 2012
Photo © Stelios