Текст песни Little Wood Satyr - Vyryr
The little wood satyr
Rides the gust of the spinners
The snow is forming too late
In the nighttime she shimmers
Small wings beating softly
Watching and warning the creator
The middle took favors
In the field of grass tapered
Found pollen few and far between
Loud animal takes over
The satyr still in mourning
Larvae nestled but dead to me
The little wood satyr
Twists and turns in the daylight
Sunflowers are blooming
In the midst of the haywire
Small stinging in that grand scheme
Of what's left in your hands
Oh little wood satyr
Flew up to Venus in the winter
And she left us, feeling guilty
A shard of wood brought from her
Late larvae, the remains
Of her own kind
The remains on a splinter
The little wood satyr
Rides the gust of the spinners
The snow is forming too late
In the nighttime she shimmers
Small wings beating softly
Watching and warning the creator
The creator
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