Mists Above Moor

The eerie silver blue visage of the moon is only light besides camp fire In the young hearts yarning for freedom fuels desire Their courage is something to admire It’s not easy to change blood to ice when in soul is burning fire The dawn has arisen Mist pale like fourth horsemen death looms on the horizon Soon they will be fighting for new day new sun The moor violet like the soul is not always hope beacon And by God It will be soon drenched in blood Few partisans standing against enemy flood The enemy bridge was just blasted The fighting is hell evoking Like runaway train there is no stopping The wheels death are promoting Yet many choose death over other fate in this time of spring The spring in which sage has sweet smell Yet air now smells like gates of hell Many soldiers would fell Then like by a spell End to violence Now the battlefield is in grave like silence The blood drenched moor says the ballad of lack of balance Balance of life and death price for freedom yet deaf are its audience Many years later a monument stands But no one remembers the name of partisan who died in those badlands But as silent echo of pale mist once again covers the moorlands The nameless solders’ soul earns a place perfect among true expands