AWA

Tuatha De Danaan

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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

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