Storm gathers

Over the bridge and far away,
the nightingale sings happily.
The rover returns tired and famished.
Night has fallen, wolves cry,
all the rivers run dry.

Who listens to the sound of the forest?
Who cries it, invaded and degraded?

Random fly of moths and bats,
Shadily they disappear.
When clouds run across the moon
Witches sing a merry tune.

The village is sound asleep
And crows are waiting near the old crossroad.
While they sing and fly around
I keep hearing my beating sound.
Pounding, beating at my ear.
What can it be but my fear...?

Witches, wags, spiders and bats
All at one invade my dreams.
When my terror makes a cat
Not as innocent as it seems…