It stands there quietly,
Hidden by the trees, so timidly,
The house as old as time.
Yet gloomy windows shine...
So sad, as melancholic roams,
It twirls around like foams,
Like a deadly reaper reels
Around the stranger's heels.
No one comes here anymore,
No one cares longer, for...
In so the secrets will rot slowly
In the house, that's not so holy.
Smeared in mysteries so long,
Those trees would tell them with their song.
They had sang them now and then,
But no one listened and they fled.
The wind will tear them to a cry.
So hurtful is their endless try
To tell us something we should know
About the house, that's all alone...