It traces the path of the salt bones
waters of the night

marking signs for the sunset.

Loneliness was sneaking in the treasure hunters
rummaging the cemeteries ashes,
the stones got used to not speaking
only to occasionally glisten
flaming eyes in the rivers.

The land, remained empty with air temple,
was hooping in the desire of self-taming
and was smiling to those with lack of prejudices.

The liquid mornings were covering the same thought
of passing the boundaries,
the cry of a bell was disturbing the forests,
metal birds were holding the sunrise under their wings.

the yellow horizon was rising from the waters.