The maple forest behind our home
today still looks so golden.
But the leaves are falling already,
time goes by so speedy.
Winter puts forth it's frosty hand,
wraps our world in a white raiment.
Over are the golden hours of the sun -
the forest's dreamless sleep has begun.
Along the forest's marge I'm walking,
remembering a childhood dream,
well known myths and fairy tails
are touching me these days,
only too well I know each word:
as white as snow, as red as blood
and the hair as black as ebony...
My dream will come true maybe.