Englisch

Bard’s Song

Do you remember…
how we secretly met
as joyfull mistrels
at nightly crossstones
and wishing wells?

In the moonshine we sang
and spoke with the oak
no tone was lost
and no heart was broke.

Lying down in fairies‘ fern
you held my hand a while
you gazed at me and softly said
„Your inmost song am I“.

And though a hundred years have passed
I still can feel the air.
It echoes through each cell of mine
and I will find you there.


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