There is blood and sweat on the brow of the past
Iron fetters on its feet,      
A bitter smile on its lips.
What a red spirit it clashed with…


There is still occasional darkness on the horizon;
However, day follows the night…
Autumn fell in and all the orchards decayed.
Leaves turned yellow and flowers faded.

The hero died, and his steed was tired;
He had fought with a huge malicious demon.

Now even if it seems impossible for him to return, 

We’re waiting for him at rosy dawns…
The crowns that once shone,
The slopes that opened their bosoms to the crowned.

Emerald trees on golden slopes,
Reached the caravan of separation and left.


There’s a spark from that frightful extinction

There are messages in the spark from the return.