كلمات Before

There used to grow moss On this rock and on those firs Darkness used to comfort Under their branches Between those cliffs A creek once streamed Its water too cold For lips to touch Behind the heavy clouds A sun used to shine Bright as its wintry gleam Reflecting from melting ice In the barren hut on the shore The rain now drums the roof In silence I mourn Of the loss on my kin What has become of this land When was the spirit slain Where now stand the ancestral shrines Why was the heritage abandoned That which once flourished Must now in ruins lie But from this wretched soul Old ways never die