| Torches to guide the way
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| To walk the misty paths
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| The forest seems like a shelter
|
| On this cold winter night
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| A huge fire is reflecting shadows
|
| Of youth and old age
|
| As the open place is reached
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| And the elderly take their seats
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| This is the night of the season’s change
|
| And a new fire shall be lit
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| A silent moment to remember the deceased
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| (The way our ancestors did)
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| Season’s change
|
| Season’s change
|
| Traditional music containing the soul of a people
|
| On this cold winter night
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| Again a circle completed and rituals more ancient
|
| As if the son of God never arrived
|
| Memories subconsciously always present
|
| Vague visions of past centuries
|
| This is the night! |
| When season’s change
|
| This is the night! |
| When season’s change
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| The trees seem to whisper their names
|
| The wind is full of a thousand voices
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| As if summoned from the past
|
| Though no words are needed
|
| A tribe will never die!
|
| Memories subconsciously always present
|
| Vague visions of past centuries
|
| Appearing in the mind
|
| Images of times we may have never lived
|
| Yet oh so present, so divine!
|
| This is the night when season’s change |