Guardians of the graves

Guardians of the graves

 

Our graves are made of rough stone

Gray as a rainy sky

Scattered across flowery meadows like watchtowers

Shine as fireflies across the sleeping fields

Forgotten, peep out of the tall grass

A lonely lizard slides down them

Guardian of dead souls

The viper raised its horn and flicked the tongue

Lichen stretched over the carved cross

Bluebells sprouted next to it

An old woman picks thyme and wormwood

Bent over like a bundle of hay

Raven pecks the grain

The wind howls through the field in winter

Snow covers everything when it gets cold

Wolves overlords of the full moon

Calling to the pack

They warn the gullible

Deter the armed

Soldier's boots will not step on it