There, between two pointed Rocks

vast plain to eyes see
a solitary man
stand still

the wind blows from the moorlands
reaches him

pretending
be her voice

fingers of death over your left shoulder

to give the bitter kiss

in the immense meadow

a solitary man
keep vigil

waiting so far
don't seeing this view
between two worlds

where she lay

everything has to do with the wind

as it blows cold and cruel

over the relentless man

molded and carved by it.
among the living
sculptured man

there

embraced by memories

Now wrapped

for deadly dark souls

to give him hell

Blame the Wind!

A soul
cut in stone

like the two rocks

at beginning of the scenes