If our winters never had an end
And flowers no longer bloomed in ecstasy
Into hell my soul would then descend
In these harsh winds the little branches bend
Birds hide in trees ,deep where we cannot see
Into blackness my soul would descend
So gone would be the sunflowers which we tend
Gone would be the person we call me
If frosty winter never had an end
We would mourn and our own garments rend
To fantasy we might all blindly flee
Into shade our souls would descend.
We mus confess our sins and make amends
And reconciled with fellow humans be
For eternal winter , we have made no plans
Hear the sacred earth,its symphony.
Music, art and spirit all agree
If fierce winter calls us to attend
In acknowledging our errors, we ascend.