Tintered in red the verdant lush appeared.
In the distance a flute was echoing.

Corpses deprived from life's breah
Vitreous eyes of thousand colours staring at the sky
Hypnotized by the unmovable dance of the stars.

«You see»
The old man spoke
Cleansing the sword from the blood
Of those who fell by his hand
«Their eyes are nothing but stars of another sky
and, like you, someone stares at them,
wondering what they could possibly be
those lights
that decorate the black».

«You see»
The old man carried on
«They are not really dead.
Their flesh will nourish the earth you're stepping on,
making her fecund,
making your survival possible.
One day they will be nothing but grass blades
fighting against the wind that once striked
this land of death.»

He briefly suspired
His gaze was full of compassion for that young man
He could understand what that boy was feeling
In that very moment
He could not blame him.
«You must fight for your living, not for your death. Remember it.»