Rolling hills are ancient cliffs. The tallest cliffs are infants. Leaping like yearling rams. We old men are bent low. Our brothers live across northern seas. Wrenched apart at our birth. We are bound by time. Flesh to earth eternal. One word of our true tongue. A hundred million years. Fraction of a breath since your race was born. We once were cold as north. Tundra and stunted trees. Wolf bear and elk, skies open up to breath. Retreating ice and our skulls are sanctuary. Our feet in summer but our beards are evergreen, and halos of smoke and ice.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
