Sleepless night of the green land,
take me with you in your journey.
Present me with a dream,
show me in your hand.

Just don't let me see,
and be aware,
that when the day comes...
You are not there.

Say it is coming, flying in the wind,
say it is rolling, following the path,
say it is running, simpathy, grind,
say it is there, blurring a lath.

Say, what is heard,
say, what is said,
say, what is led,
but, what is...?
... Just can't miss.

The clouds were rain,
the wind blowed its sound,
the river was a flow,
the flowers bloomed the ground.

Colourful morning at the mountain,
shinning stars just disappeared,
vanished Moon above the horizon,
peeking Sun, golden fountain, sinking feared.

Neverending green hills, I walked,
lofty trees, illusion,  impression,
throught the shadows, in the mist,
throught my visions in a tryst.

Alive in the distant,
dead on my lament,
like a moan, left alone,
felt so tragic, not so magic,
said my head, in a moment,
spelled a crying, a tying.

Dicen que por las noches, cuando miras las estrellas,
si las que te aparecen, no son las que ves mas bellas,
no es solo la luz de sus auras, lo que hay en ellas,
sino que ademas de lo que ves... Son solo centellas.

From the hightest mountain to the lowest valley,
I pursued my shadows like a narrow alley.

Followed the path, cristal river, into the forrest.
Run around the blue lake, where the flower.
Crossed the desert, through the dune, into the bower.
Found myself at the openned ocean and still no rest.

To finally face, in the darkness of my thought,
only inside, there was nothing but nought.

It is said that when the night falls and the moon rise,
when the wind blows cold and the light just lies,
when the hearing, deaf as it sounds, not for your ear,
when the shadows, hidden in the light, may disappear.

It is said that when the only look is your sight and the only feel is your heart.
It is said, it is your heart...

Look at the water, lighted reflection.
Look at the sky, invisible colour.
Look at the rain, falling dolour.
Look at the floor, endless correction.

In your eyes, the price, in your day, the night.
So bright, so say, so nice... So dice...

Thinking to remember, timing in the Sun.
Empty room, void space.
Shining books, colourfull expell.
No run, no face, no sound, no bell.

Talking to myself, shouting to the Moon.
Miserable darkness, heard in the distance.
Mistaken scenery, sky light, star of my eyes.
Say soon, say glance, say only... It's lies.

Lost in thoughts,
looking the stars,
seduced by the Moon,
feeling the wind,
frost spirit, crystal view.

Mirror in the lake,
sway the scene,
drag the dark,
show the screen,
shine a flake.

Just time will pass soon.
Will night just be spark?

Just waiting, passes the time,
as people passing by,
just walking along the way,
so the wind can blow and say.

Still, always you may feel,
still, always you heal free.

Sense of life, goes on you,
sense, surrounding, flow with you.

Still, nothing to see, nothing to say...

... But, however, always, something.

There is always a way,
always a sight,
always a light.

See it from the distance,
feel it in your heart,
feel it in apart.

Breath it in the silence,
touch it as it goes,
sense it as it is.

There is always a time,
always a rhyme,
always a chime...

Sometimes...

Little Wizard of the forest, show me all your heft,
for the time you will arrive, I will be already left.