...And she sings

...And she sings
Like she is trying to bring the echoes of her voice
She sings
To evocated the way her people sang before

Then the cold winter breeze starts to warms
And the wind blow creates melodies never been heard

Wolfs sings howling along with her
The sweet music of the forest
The voices of the wood are rising
The pale symphony of the night

She brings the death when every time she sings.

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