A funeral. The lost might of a winter past. Guardian of balance. Carefree summer is fading away. Birds are gone. The spirits awaken. New era has begun. The father tree has died. Wandering through the elders' lands to the north At first glance ahead a wooden sea Many would be scared to leave their homes for this I cannot go back, woods are calling me Gloomy is the hall under highest trees Prolonged shadows obscure all over the forest Birds don't sing, maybe perished for an unknown mean? Happiness and life are replaced by wooden grief Glimmering streams, unknown maiden's heal There I shall come to the heart where all began Water gurgles under roots of the father tree Death has arrived, the lone greatness is dying