On the winnow fields They beheld the gate Trembling with fear And afraid to forfeit Anxiously They clinged to table scrabs As if to aver Their deprivation
And the swine crowed round The shining lot of pearls
With empty hands The high king reigns Nothing but light The raven flies
A fool is the slave Who fears not his fetters But watches over them with jealousy
On the winnow fields They beheld their lives Paralysed with fear In the presence of the Vergobret So they cherished Doctrines of denial And wallowed In poor men's tales
And the swine crowed round The shining lot of pearls Just like the vultures Grave cadaveric flesh
With empty hands The high king reigns Nothing but light The raven flies
With empty hands The high king reigns Nothing but light The raven fliesTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
