歌词
By the cinders of the morning
To the thistle of the thorn king
The crown of thorns to
The spring in the wood
Here up on the mountain
The winter mist is hunted by
The whispering well
Circle of woods
Hear the cry and the crackle of the fire
Hear the winds of the grains we till
Hear the voice that sings to everything
And always has and always will
Oh the sickle of the seasons
In the thicket of our reason
From the tingle in the brush
Singing of birds
Oh thirsty fire
Hear the voice of water
We're teeming and streaming
In the river of words
Hear the cry and the crackle of the fire
Hear the water in the cups we fill
Hear the voice that sings to everything
And always has and always will
Hear the voice that sings to everything
And always has and always will