In sunset's land,
where mountain gets in red and thyme presents its soul,
my name is uttered,
from wall of stone to wall of stone.
The night grows up
and stars tremble and shine,
and scent of pines spreads around the sight
of sky dressed in blood and night.
And borns, the calm
as if the ethereal sea all made of dying light
flooded the space and land,
as it embraced your skin and took up to the sky.
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