Mountains of stone in the tall lunar highlands They cannot conquer me, nor surpass my size The blush of an iris in the bleach of the summer It cannot forge the hue of my wide purple tide And though I am changing, these thrifts they will find me On the wandering plains of another gone year Where seven young babies will float all around me And turn in a parallel and all disappear The long mirror of time The long mirror of time Its sculpted crystal passage is not genuine The long mirror of time The long mirror of time Reveals the prism faces but not mine The emperors wait there in the face of the future And I am here folding in a firm yellow rose They know these indulgences but know not the hollowed orb My softest armor dawns in ragged old clothes And it cannot harm them, their many medicines Dug from the extract of cold shattered time What was the mountain, the marvel now manifests In streams of wild radiance for melodious minds The long mirror of time The long mirror of time Its sculpted crystal passage is not genuine The long mirror of time The long mirror of time Reveals the prism faces but not mine The mountain of stone is the blush of the iris Although I am changing with all unborn faces The summit is waiting to carry me over it The foot of the horse, the whip of the foul The foot of the horse, the whip of the foul The foot of the horse, the whip of the foul The mirror of time is reflecting me now The mirror of time is reflecting me now