I've wanted to tell a story, after stopping my plough
But the Moon wouldn't listen, neither Earth or Mars;
So, I've put my hands deep into the snow
And started to build a refuge for the stars.
I've made the owls guardians of the gate,
And sent the wolves to gather firewood,
While a barrel of red wine and some food
Would find, for themselves, a glass and a plate.
I'm speaking in a loud voice for the trees
That are fostering tonight the cold North winds,
But, by now, the silence is the only word
That the eye of the night would hear from above.
