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