Above a cloudy starry sky,
songs echo
in the hidden snow,
a symphony on a journey
of a tear,
the blade of the steed.
The nights were not one...
but two nights together.

In the forest
unfolds a lady in red,
blood drips along the path,
eyes gaze upon her,
and the wolf howls
at the moon.

When she buries
the fruits of her past,
she wonders:
why was I red
and not blue like this fruit?
Now I will never know,
the grieve of my youth.