The Ancient Oak

I raise my hands to the sun

that shines in my face through the branches of oak

I call the words long forgotten

and feel the power of earth flowing into me

In this sacred place I'm not alone anymore

I hear the wood - spirits' voices

My memories slowly wake up from the sleep

And I know - nothing's forgotten

And then ahead of me at the sunset

an old man appears from the oak

as hypnotized I bend my head before him

The wood-spirits whisper me - it's the krive of krives

The forefathers' wisest wizard and loreman

he's gone long ago, yet still alive

"I am the spirit of this oak-tree,

never try to brandish your axe here,

I'll teach you enlighten your mind,

if you lay open your heart.

From the earth you have come, my son,

not from the heaven.

So, return to your mother -

may your part be your sword and the ploughshare,

And be aware - nothing's forgotten!"