On new year eve when the sun on the west hung low And the east wind on dead leaves blow I paced to the yellow woods And sat on my favourite wood Where not long after I fell into a trance Not of any divine trace But a dream from my person And I saw a vision backwards: 365 days ago, not long ago I was on the same spot For the familiar new year ritual That of writing my aspirations My fickle fingers wrote my dreams on the hard earth On the passing sands of time But no traces of them was left Perchance carried by the furious wind To the store house of wasted words I continued in the vision backwards When I heard a voice from me saying " Don't write your dreams on sand Write them on your heart " I woke from my short trance When the crimson moon was awake above And the night owl hooting echoed through the woods Left the woods without performing my ritual Because i heard a vision backwards " Don't write your dreams on sand Write them on your heart."