the sky is torn
and the dark peaks emerge,
from autumn mists,

gloomy air scent
chestnuts and mushrooms earth,
the smell of the earth all around,

you smell good and energy,
walk on trails
covered by blankets of dead leaves,

beautiful the gentle rustle of my feet,
in adoring silence of the forest
and quiet, only a small

gurgling of the stream gray.
The trees know me,
murmur throughout the forest,

My beings full of love,
wuthering,
steep slopes and wild
I'm back.

the ethereal mist and pale,
envelops the woods almost bare,
where are they? Who are they?

everything seems suspended in nothingness,
sometimes we get lost in the fog,
silhouettes of ghosts around us,

lost in a hazy whiteness,
autumn melancholy and weeping,
the rugged mountains most do not see,

woods breathless screaming,
day without evening,
the darkness here soon,

surround us in a
silent embrace,
only the crackling of a fire
sparkles next to us.

the wood of the earth
contains the spirit of God,
the trees are extraordinary,

loads of love from the roots
to the tips of branches that
stubbornly want to touch the sky,

their beauty is upset,
their melodious voice,
their love is full

shines throughout the universe,
because the trees are life.
the air is love

flows from each tree,
follow us for better or for worse,
as they followed Christ,

when he was born he was deposed
in a wooden manger,
and when he died the wood hugged him
on the Cross.

the wood of the earth
contains the spirit of God,
the trees are extraordinary,

loads of love from the roots
to the tips of branches that
stubbornly want to touch the sky,

their beauty is upset,
their melodious voice,
their love is full

shines throughout the universe,
because the trees are life.
the air is love

flows from each tree,
follow us for better or for worse,
as they followed Christ,

when he was born he was deposed
in a wooden manger,
and when he died the wood hugged him
on the Cross.

in the winter twilight
all is silence while
the spirit of the earth sleeps,

the sky always white
ethereal almost non-existent
the sun is fled away,

the cold and the ice is now
master of everything,
my garden is silent, wrapped

in snow and fog,
while I little butterfly
I closed my wings in the cold.

in the winter twilight
all is silence while
the spirit of the earth sleeps,

the sky always white
ethereal almost non-existent
the sun is fled away,

the cold and the ice is now
master of everything,
my garden is silent, wrapped

in snow and fog,
while I little butterfly
I closed my wings in the cold.