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• Artiste: Transit Poetry
• Titre: Solstice
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The skies speak in a blood red tongue In the brightest gleaming night of the year For ages ancient songs we've sung And asked pagan gods to return here Solstice come, illuminate The night, free us from winter's doom Don't let your fires hesitate To send their light into all rooms The skies speak in a blood red tongue In the shortest night that tells of joy These songs we sing with hoarse rough lungs For the delight of every girl and boy The shining flame, the burning torch Slowly it goes from hand to hand Passed on for all the dreams we forge It carries faith throughout the land In a suicide mood drowned in their source The moths that dance around the flames Pridefully following the sun's turned course Like we set out for new forged aims