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
And 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!"