Two horses rest in silence, by the sea.
When a young girl, who came from the dead, approached the scene.
Inside their nostril, she has laid a scent of deed and you may listen
To their neigh in your silent dream.
Charmer, my poor charmer, rest under the olive-tree,
Under the olive-tree.
When death loses track of all her charms,
He is always drunk in morpheus' arms.
Under the silent, the silent olive-tree.
Charmer, my poor charmer!
Two horses are gazing at the sea,
When a young girl approached the scene.
Her name in the shape of fear.
Her shield shiny, as when she lived...
Charmer, my poor charmer, rest under the olive-tree.
Charmer, my poor charmer, rest under the olive-tree.
Under the olive-tree
