Enjoy the psilence of the sad eyes of a warriors with no voice,
follow their footsteps one step a side and two back
in the blue scale of a pilgrims
from a long and forgotten time under a deep sky.
They was born on the ridge of the mountain after a summer storm,
their first cry and our first look were hidden by the roar and thunder,
the first breaths was the smell of wet earth.
Their steps was always on the tip of the mild and light feets.
Another waltz, one just before the lightning and the thunder bring back us to home.
… Can you feel this peace,
can you see this beautiful landscape?
Stay with us a little bit more,
then we’ll come home,