Call of the Ancient Woods

A cycle of poems «Whispers of Mari El»

In the heart of the forest, where shadows entwine, 
Whispers of ancients in the cold, silver pine. 
Echoes of laughter, now lost in the mist, 
Once danced with the moonlight, now shrouded in bliss. 

Oh, call of the ancient woods, 
Where the spirits roam free, 
In the silence, I hear your cries, 
A lament for what used to be. 
Beneath the boughs of sorrowed trees, 
I seek the truth in the breeze. 

Once vibrant and wild, with a song in the air, 
Now haunted by shadows, a burden we share. 
The roots of our history, tangled and torn, 
In the heart of the forest, a love that is worn. 

Oh, call of the ancient woods, 
Where the spirits roam free, 
In the silence, I hear your cries, 
A lament for what used to be. 
Beneath the boughs of sorrowed trees, 
I seek the truth in the breeze. 

Moonlight weeps on the fallen leaves, 
Tales of our ancestors carried on eaves. 
Through the mist and the pain, I wander alone, 
Searching for solace in a world overthrown. 

The wind carries secrets of battles once fought, 
Of love that was lost and the dreams that were sought. 
In the depths of despair, I hear your sweet song, 
A melody haunting, where all souls belong. 

Oh, call of the ancient woods, 
Where the spirits roam free, 
In the silence, I hear your cries, 
A lament for what used to be. 
Beneath the boughs of sorrowed trees, 
I seek the truth in the breeze. 

So I stand at the edge where the shadows collide, 
With a heart full of longing and nowhere to hide. 
In this sacred embrace, I’ll forever remain, 
Bound to the whispers of joy and of pain.