Lost Paths Of Unicorns

A breeze is tearing down the leaves of the trees (That are) falling asleep in the colors of Fall Again, I can hear that strange beat of the Earth That melancholy neigh and sorth of the nostrils The strokes of hoofs sound again over the land I can see them again galloping gracefully Their blowing white manes, a tender sharp horn on their brow Only a virgin could touch their grace And feel the touch of their eyelashes in her palm Just today, when I`m scrolling across the forest And that ancient touch is warming my palms Just today, I`m trying to find the traces of UNICORNS As if their traces were still warm But those paths have been overgrown with grass For a long time...