Oh, the snow it falls, the way is long,
long, long, long as a song
and this path is strange to me
for I am lost in the Sea of Trees:
I must get home, to my wife Mari –

– in my house she waits for me:
she is warm, and I am cold,
and she is young, and I am old,
for I am lost in the Sea of Trees
upon this path so strange to me:

Ah, she is my world, my all-in-all –
oh, why must the snow fall?’

Excerpt from Mask [i] / Volume 9 of Dustless

Dustless | Volume 9