Legend
Written for Da'.
The unclear, wild sound of the click-clack-snap
And the clap
As the rattling marbles were shaken in a wooden cup
And in the shadows, the fire leapt up
And the flute, wooden and smelling of smoked meat and wine
Played and played and made the sign...
Here in the mountains, tossed and spun
The dry pine needles mix with the crackle of fall
Matches dropped in the dark snow say
Someone has been by and tried to stay
But they never do; the wind chases them all
And no one finishes what he's begun
Alone with the hundreds of thousands of eyes
Spiders and squirrels and curious crows
They wrap in their furs and try to sleep
But they never do; the snow is deep
And in the night-time the pine tree sews
A pattern in the black clothes that are the skies
The harsh, trilling words of the saw-pull-shriek
And the squeak
Of the tuning of guitars in the empty inn
Where silence made an echoing din
And the doors that were rotting once were strong:
Among the smell of old travellers, they played the song...
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