A blind crow
Lodged in the woods
Amidst darkness
Winging its way through the blackish sky
A cursed surrounding of no delight

The Nowhere Land
The very realm of doom
Where the night is said
To seize every bloom

The crow, the mortal soul
Whose cheer is already dull
Now is the new victim of night
The Night, the undying ruler of murk

The darkness pervades the crow
Besieging her disarmed heart
Takes Hold of it
thoroughly to the hilt
Absorbing her all
Dark feathers, eyes and soul

The night is forcing its way
Through the long crowd of oaks standing in an array, side to side
Fearless iniquity fighter folks

The wind's blowing
In an outrageous roar
Shaking branches
Thrusting leaves roughly on the dust
The wind forces, the gray wolves
Soldiers of the night

The fire Bursts into flames
Takes over the bushes
Turns greenery into ashes
Maliciously smiles shaping the hell
The fire, the ruthless reinforcement of devil

The wind
The fire
The crow
Her nest settled on the lofty oak
Embracing her beloved chicks
Her heart shattered into bits
Doth she have the chance to escape her misery?

The wind blows furiously
Blazes up the flames
Hastens the pace of destruction
The hellish wolves driving the golden carriage of death!

The crow, the target of night
Flys over the towering trees
Poor sorrowful blind fellow
Hath no hope left to lean on tight

The flames flare up to the bough
The oaks fight off as they bow
The chicks outcry the blare of fear
There's no sound but of fray to hear

The crow the forlorn soul
Whose heart involved with blur
The crow the hostage of night
Now is ready to escape the plight
Dark feathers and eyes but bright soul!

The whimper of kids begging for help
On the edge of burning limbs
Brings her back into her sense
Physically blind but actually discerns

Dives for trees the crow that once
Had her heart in clutches of demise
Drawn back wings and right fixed head
Chains went shattered in a single blink
Unfurls her wings as quickly sinks down
Recalling sweet days deep down drown

Keeps descending nearly to the end
The crow, the soul ready for mend
Stretched out claws Clasps the lair
Feathers laid out on a feeble flare
Moving her wings ascends to the sky
Carrying her chicks flying up high

The blowing up wind arouses the flames
Fuels up the force having gone pale
Puts the nest down on a rock on path
Plunges as she stares at all she hath
Falling with haste, going downward
Streaks of mare bleeding out wild

Devoured by death but still prevails
Living renewed in younger frames
Behold death! Thou shalt not kill
Whoso overcomest inner devil