close all doors

each eve when night descends

never call their names

there might be one attend

Like changelings

in the cradle of mundane reason

they still roam at night

so sure as the change of seasons

Each morn silken mist asphyxiates

this green deserted land

the sea calls my name with its imperious voice

each eve the roaring wind howls : you won`t resist my sway

this meagre soil derides me day by day

Where is it , this sweet Mag Mell with its luscious laughter

the sidhe in their hills sing of and embitters my life

each story which gone astray on the wings of the wind

rips my soul and my mind slowly apart

Still there`s a silver throne standing

under each hill of the land

it reigns over the realm of the night

the kingdom in my mind