It’s winter My God!

It’s winter My God!
I look for some love
To fight the cold

There’s an arctic blow
Over skin and bones
That I don’t want

Tough if it’s disappeared the sky
Covered by tons of fog and crimes
I can keep dreaming
More than before

And all the beauty of the life
Now it is naked at my eyes
It’s all essential
There’s no surplus

It’s winter my God!
I hear the sad hawk
Singing a song

It’s winter I know
The Rowan’s * adorned
So crimson

And that tree is the letter L
Said also “Luis” on ancient spell
It means protection
Against enchantments

So this season is also blessed
It’s time for us to have a rest
Inside the silence

We need to breath

It’s winter my God!
The coloured autumn
We will soon lose

* “Rowan” è il sorbo selvatico che con le sue caratteristiche bacche rosse (nella foto) colora l’inverno. Nell’alfabeto celtico degli Ogham, il sorbo è ditto LUIS e corrisponde alla lettera L; è collegato alla protezione contro i malefici.