My fingers in the sun,
As I watch the falling leaves.
With many blue apples,
As the freedom of the wind.
In voices immortal,
And the calling of the wild.
Is so the human heart,
The freezing of the leaves.
For never are we free,
With desires here on earth.
Always are we calling,
For the waters evermore.
Damn this cursed lust,
For metal here and pride.
As warriors come and seek,
For the wicked flames of power.
And yet pleasures of the invisible,
Are the glaciers of light.
With freedom of the heart,
As the silence of the moon.