Gale · Loss · Love

Ceasefire

Ceasefire, says the Master.
I will not let go
of my little dream,
speaks the hunter in the wind.

If you stop and follow me,
I will set you free,
breathes the Master quietly.
I will not let go of me,
roars the hunter in the sea.

Oh, how sweet this life can be,
all the trees are filled with Thee,
weeps the mother, tenderly.
Hunters hunt the vanishing,
mothers bear the bitter seed,
sings the robin in the spring.

Romanian version

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