cloaked in the morning, the silence of December's trees softly heard
letting loose a lonesome sigh as the breeze breaths a ravens cry;
grieving are the mornings songs nestled within the forest's tranquility;
the freezing northern winds whisper, wrapping this bleeding heart in a velvet robe.

natures grief disapates, as if a dream, enchanting within this franconian canopy;
this forest embraces, caught for eternity dwelling among the dense wood;
such a purity lies within emerald green veiled beneath this winter's snow;
now the dawn awakens this morning from its shroud with shimmering fountains of gold.