a breath of grass and dust,

on the planis of the past

we all saw ourselves burn,

but that was on old times.

if you see beyond the line,

when i be gone i'll be right there son.

the caravan want to go on west,

but i'll always be on sea on east.

my ship has to go,

tomorrow is my time to make things right,

so go my son fell sleep while me tidy

things up until tomorrow.

because i've had already told you the old stories

and it's now time to fell sleep,

no worries about me going without say goodbye,

i shall stay tonight,

tomorrow is the day which we must go separate ways,

by now you will sleep and... i will swallow some more wine.

goodbye my son that was never born,

sleep tight,

there shall not be any monsters to day,

just me besides the door.

waiting you fell sleep,

wishing i could had the oportunity to see you really sleep.

-- a litle story --

a man one day before he goes to a war,

lay down on the bed wishing no go,

guessing that he will probably don't come back

and thinking about "what if" he had left something back.