Orakle

Le théatre de la nature - acte ii : le repos

Orakle
The quietus
My vision... apathetic
Lost in the middle of tears
This time, hell was far higher

When the wind returns to the tomb
And the rain, lone, succumbs
I behold the trees, free anew
In this temple forgetting the past's rage

Ruined by a devastating passion
Disfigured scene, wounds intuition
And the trees mourn their sudden demise
Pillars in their turn bowing to the harm

Torn by the gusts of yore
Weapons are unveiled, with a bloody destiny
Memories from a skies' dreadful sublime impulse

Those wintry evenings, as a veil falls night
The cloudless sky lets glitter its first stars
And engraving in me unforgettable memories
Without triumph behind, nature withdraws...

The rising moon seems to watch over the night
Above mighty nature, in our infinite temple

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