This page contains various lyrics dedicated to the beauty of nature, ranging from songs about elven forests to Haikus about the Ráhaz-Dáth and the travels of wanderers through Santharian lands. Come with us for a walk, I'm sure you'll enjoy it...


This atmospheric poem of nature and sorrow at the same time was first recited among the Ice tribes of Northern Sarvonia during the end of the War of the Chosen. In this war many died, and indeed, even more saw their friends end up as a twisted experiment of the mages' power. This caused much sorrow amongst the Ice Tribes and thus it was that when their annual Chelarinn ceremony is hold, one of the tribe recites the poem and then the tribe shouts cries of anguish to remember the injustice that was done upon them. This is one of the few moments when they express any emotion, and to behold it is a sight which lasts forever. Who made this poem is unknown, but many speculate, that since there has never been record of famous Ice Tribe poets, this poem might have been made by a traveling artist, who found his way into the Ice Tribe's existence.

The snow cleared up and the sign is written,
In winter's twilight the world looks red
The light given to rest and the night still smitten.
The ice reflecting the murderous bet
of men who strive,
To end each other's life.

The snow falls again from the clear broken sky,
The world turning white and the scars fading away.
Now only memory survives, memory of that great Lie,
The Lie which destroyed all that was made.
But that too fades,
Leaving only the shades.

The water lies broken in pieces of transparency,
And even the shades disappear into nothingness.
The world seeming still and so full of vacancy,
Not even a hint of the past and lingering sadness.
It is all unreal,
Behind an icy seal.


Thou hazy-hairé'd queen of the waning day
Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains still,
Let leap thy claret flame, let longing spread,
And thus doff thy crown! Range autumnal eyes,
And smile benedictions on the waning day.
Aye, the curts’ying grain hears thy whispered love.
Golden fields are washed in thy rose-tinged wine
Oh sunset’s queen, bride of the star-sparked night.
Ring melancholy chimes in scattered isles,
And let thy west wind caress eastern lakes!

Withdraw now, let the mellow silence fall
Ingather thy amber skirts, flee into the night!


And now, you see, the flowers sway their heads
Up to the azure sky. Perhaps they long
To meet the clouds, to fly up from their beds
And soar with birds, and sing such light-filled song!
Admire we sweet allia’s purple hue,
And white the flower of whose vine so creeps;
The cerubell’s most brilliant blue,
And Yellow, hanging horn that lightly sleeps.
Yet even though their petals echo grace,
Perhaps they’d leave their quiet charms behind
So they might rise into a brighter place
And gain a beauty of another kind.
Unknown are longings of the heart’s soft core
For something in the soul, for something more.


I walk in the night, through the snow,
Past where the frozen birch trees show
Branches bare and gray and cold
To assuage the pangs within my soul.

The autumn has stolen the verd’rous trees
And the children make not their flower’d wreaths.
Into the earth, the bitter winter seeps
And as she does, the fair Jeyriall sleeps.

I walk in the night, through the snow,
Down the path where north winds blow,
Under such dark and endless skies
With stars as cold as Queprur’s eyes.

The houses come and the houses go;
I walk through an icy world of snow,
Under a full and pale-faced moon
Whilst breezes whistle a haunting tune.

I walk in the night, through the snow
To where the crystal grasses grow.
I stand in the enchanted, chilly air
And send to Avá a silent pray'r.


How sweet the moonlight dabs the quiet ground
From far above in vast and ashen sky.
The limber branches sway, then slowly sigh
In chilly breezes winding softly round
The birch’s slender form. The northern lights surround
The solid firs that reach their arms up high.
Yet, in the cold dwell creatures light and shy,
And in the gloom they fill the woods with sound.
Blue glitras hide like myths in forests dark,
While gentle gynnia coo soft and low.
Nue’mon flutter as if to remark
Though icy be this land, still life can grow;
Whilst nightbirds sing of places we’ll embark
Reminding us that death broods in the snow.

by Lucirina Telor Vevan

A Wizard's Walk

View picture in full size Lyrics illustration by Eratinalinfalah.

There is a path that leads to a tavern,
where you get all the pleasures of life.
Where ale flows freely into mugs and goblets
and friendly words greet as you go by.

Oh it is down by the foot of the mountain,
where the cold water runs so clear.
Where the cerubell dances softly
in a breeze of cool night air.

The way there goes over stone and rock,
and under shadows of silver clad trees.
Golden streaks from the shining injèrá
filtering softly through thousands of leaves.

The injóh's song will kindly lead me,
while a fairy tells of the warming sun.
And time will pass fast as I wander,
soon encountering a door will let me in.

A hand lifts to slowly push it open,
so I can enter with tired steps.
A chair and rest I find after the walk
and a ear that will listen to my tale.

by Valannía Incendarious

When winter's breeze goes dashing
It does some magical things.
It gives the shadows dancing shoes
It lends the glistening snow wings
When winter's breeze goes dashing.

It curls the hearths tail of smoke
And shares a small whispered joke.
With pines delighting in prattle
Lifting their cones to a rattle
When winters breeze goes dashing.

by Rayne Avalotus

The fire glows underneath the heath
Where flowers weaved into wreaths,
Show colors of a faded hue
Like weary red and tired blue.

Though autumn has so swiftly come
And distant is the whitened sun
The spring lives on in bitter cold
Returns to new what once was old.

For youthful seeds of agéd past
In season shall renew at last
That beauty from so long ago
When gone is chill and melted snow

And though the winter’s to arrive
We keep our hopes fresh and alive
With fires as warm as finch’s wing
And floral mem’ries of the Spring.

by Lucirina Telor Vevan

(This song is made out of several parts, all of them collected
by the wandering bard, Lucirina, as she travelled across the lands.
Each verse is from a different culture and describes a different rose
in its own way. For order the verses will go from the lightest
to the darkest flower.)

New fallen snow of winter,
sea foam and clouds,
white doves in flight.
Those are your petals
my dearest rose.
Your crystal heart hiddden
within linings of white silk.
A whisper of Avá reached you,
kissed your lips,
and blessed you with silver.

Yellow flames, fire,
floating on the wild winds.
You shed your golden petals
like a rain of sparks.
Foiros’ own flower,
golden rose, you burn,
you lift your fiery head
toward the sun that loves you,
you grow wild and free,
and you continue glowing.

So sweet the kiss from a child,
so sweet the love of a mother.
Pink dawn, pink eve,
pink rose growing on the moor.
So sweet the smell of you,
so tender the hand that gives you.
Loving smile of Lier'tyan touched you,
brought you forth from nothing.
You, sweetest of roses,
you, child among flowers.

Oh lovely red rose,
you are the blood
running from a lover's vein.
You are the soft caress,
the tender touch,
the loving gaze.
In your petals lies hidden
the passion of a thousand words.
You are a vow
Of eternal love.

Eternal sands in motion
surround your home, oh brown rose.
In the silence of the desert
you open your petals
to eyes unseeing.
In solitude you bloom,
in sun you wait.
Your soft and gentle scent
parfumes your lover,
the evening breeze.

What hand reached out
and tore down a piece of the sky?
Blue as the eternal heavens,
you wonder about yourself.
Are you but a figment of a mage's dream?
Are you a mirage?
A cerubell in a rose's dress?
Blue rose, answers I do not carry,
only a comfort in your anguish.
You are still a part of Arkon's creation.

Who called you forth,
oh crimson rose?
Your appearance speaks of blood,
you bring the stink of death.
A threat, a coming revenge.
Heart of a lady
that cannot love.
Echiilianni caresses your petals
And fills them with poison,
taking away your beauty.

Your color is cold,
your name means death
your embrace welcomes
those whose heart is broken.
The caress you give
is filled with venom,
wild rose, rose of fear.
In many past battles
you welcomed invaders
with kisses filled of blight.

A mirage maybe,
The ravings of a madman,
A mystery, a myth, a dream.
You stand among the burning dunes,
waiting to be found.
Misery to those who find you,
death to those who crave you.
Queprur treasures your midnight petals,
cradeling them in her hands,
tainting them with madness and despair.


by Artimidor Federkiel
(translated by Arancaytar & Bard Judith)

For where the Euwens proudly stand,
There I shall rest as well.
Though all the years shall pass like naught,
Should Soul upon that dwell?

When darkness reigns, grow Euwens high;
Murk withers not this tree
Likewise I shall, when death is nigh,
Embrace it fearlessly.

If Joy and Fortune, Luck and Bliss,
Shall mark the path I see,
Or Mourning, Fear, and Loneliness,
It matters not to me.

Only there where Euwens spring
At Home am I; my song I sing,
Lightly saying, 'Mè nón' (*),
In sweet and cloudsoft Darkengrove,
the ineffable Thaelon.

(*) Freely translated: "Let it be"

by Amuwen

There is poetry in nature
Music floating on the breeze
A bird sings out a melody
The beat moves through the trees

Dove's wings flapping in the air
A rustle in the leaves
Flowers nodding gentle heads
Luring in malise

An echo rings out through the fields
The glitra's peaceful tune
Golden grasses whispering
Sand shifting on a dune

All these things together
Compose nature's perfect song
A harmony like no other
T'will play til days have gone

by Talia Sturmwind

Calmly steps the night ashore
and sets her foot where not before
an eye has seen her velvet garb,
nor listened to her soothing harp.

Rests dreaming on a mountain side
until she stretches out her wings so wide
to cover sea and land alike
with ease, so soft and hiding.

And lays her hands on eyes gone blind
there is no better remedy to find
to heal the wounds of Avá‘s glare
and many pray who never care.


The darkwinds took the sun away
and darkness fell, there was no ray
of light and warmth upon the earth
and great was suffering and dearth.

Foiros gave back her life and strength
to foll‘w her path in all its length
in front of Caelereth, day by day,
will never cease to go her way.

Though now she dives in darkness deep
- her path at dawn is strong and steep -
with might and pow‘r she rises high
all living breathes of relief a sigh.


This primal night was long and hard
and silent soon, no singing bard
brought life and warmth to any hearth
and frozen lay the dying earth.

But this was not the night we praise,
the night in favour our words we raise.
the one who soothes our daily pain
and ends all things we did in vain.

The night we love, she gives us rest
we may lie down, she does her best
to drive away all troubles of the day
for unloved chores she grants delay.

So let us not forget what we have seen,
nor wish the time so dark had never been.
Be thankful for the sun to have returned,
but also for the night we gladly earned.

For if the sun would not set down
to hide her glaring golden crown
- as it was true in times of yore -
would be the calming night no more.

by Rayne Avalotus

Old willow, old willow, what hast thou seen
In all thy sweet earthly years?
How many glories and wonders?
How many smiles and tears?

Old willow, old willow, what hast thou heard
In the wind’s whistling whirl?
Maybe the clank of a dwarven hammer
Or the tune of an elven girl?

Old willow, old willow, what hast thou tasted
In this sweet emerald air?
Canst thou taste the warm light of sun
Or a human boy’s silent despair?

Old willow, old willow, what hast thou felt?
Art thou happy in this home?
Dost thou feel joy in so rich a place
Or hast thou never felt more alone?

Old willow, old willow, canst thou see?
What she dreams, so shalt it be!


by Elviondel

Elven homage to the forest Quallian

In ever-lighted trees of nature,
There I'll find my home.
Alone and peaceful is my forest,
Where lovely songbirds roam.
No humans passing, dwarves a'thrashing,
Brownies playing, nor orcs be slaying,
In my forest home.
O Quallian, light of life,
Free of conflict, free of strife.
My elven kinfolk be forgotten
By the ruined of the rotten.
Bother not my lands, peace brought and
Saved my forest home.
O Quallian, love of life,
Land of freedom, free of strife.
In ever-lighted trees of nature,
Always be my home.

by Talia Sturmwind

sun glare
bright brazen valleys
death is coming


sun burning down
motionless eyes, covered
death is waiting


golden dunes, gliding
singing sands bringing death
precious water


merciless sun
endlessly spanning sky
sand dragons flying


full moon shining
frost hits the barren ground
a dune mouse


south drifting stars
desert winds resting silently
love in her eyes

Poems written by various team members