The beast dies in the Ancient wood And the sight fades, And the snow it just seems, The silence is darker in the pine wood It's the meaning of tree, revealed by Beast. The beast is the world, Where the breathe of the forests is light Dying, he can't comprehend the rhanges, Staying in the world where he was This winter air will not be stranger for him And the snow locks merge To the pines' out lines A meloncholly for freezing wind fills the heart With greif for the past: Screams of the raven in the empty wood And silence with autumnal downpours, And low fog on the swamps, Death in the Eyes Of The Beast Dark blue twillight. Wolf's pupils in fire through the fog, As burned oaks in the dead grumble, And in the torned rhops, The winter Without enlightenment, expectation, pain Will finish a range in to other nature Behind the memory side And infinte weariness
