‘Chant,

Come to me as I gather flowers

with my pure hands in the deep.

A dream in the night, all is found,

as the fairies tell tales in my sleep.

Slowly it fades in the world,

and yet from above

the lady of the moon chant.

An angel’s voice from an fairyland

awakens the tales of my enchant.

The moon dreams about eternity

and the voices of the heart

beholds my mother of memories,

So now, in a peaceful moment I depart.

‘This Sunday,

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