Hopes ablazed in fires of summer, fallen in thousand leaves of gold, embracing the ground of its pieces, to sleep until the rivers flow again.
Burn me in the clouds of fire to carry the ashes into the heavens that make the stars at night by the warm evening sky.
In the gushing of his dreams, he strummed the breeze, calming the dark nights from the loud whispers of pain.
Sacred stone down the lonely bay, singing chants of underwater tones.
Let it murmur in mellow tunes and rise by the sound of the trumpets.