Dark oaks cast their opaque shadows upon dismal paths,
Compelling one into the depths of gloom along an abandoned track.
No man has drifted to this route long after the great oaks were birthed by nature,
But today there on the soft wild earth once barren of men rests footprints embarking a journey.

The humble soil darkened from lack of rays of morning star awakes to the touch of the traveler,
Dark withered leaves fall upon the knowing earth inquiring the character of the man who alone passes them.
Who is this creature who leaves upon the soil his salty teardrops
and yet walks along as if he is master of the wood?

Shall the earth swallow him with her soils?
Shall the oaks whisper insanity in his ears?
The man is alone with no one to care for him,
If he shall fall who shall hear?

If earth in her solitude should take this man as her child
And bury him beneath the great roots of the mighty oaks,
Who shall come to moisten his grave with tears?