Quiet ruins,
covered with snow,
they keep the legends from ages long ago;
the stones are silent,
but yet they talk,
their words are full of magic, so if you walk alone
do not be frightened
and have no fear,
there´s nothing there to hurt you, nobody´s near;
and if there are whisp´rings
out of the snow
then you are told a holy secret only you must know...
Quiet ruins,
covered with green,
how long have they been standing, what have they seen?
They´re old and rotten,
but full of might,
who would not be craving for knowing who lived inside
the walls, when they were standing,
strong, young and high?
Perhaps kings and queens were born here, or here they did die...
Nobody knows it,
only the grey wall;
it is the one and only witness who knows it all.
Quiet ruins,
let them dream
and let them stand there in the sunlight´s golden stream;
their days are over,
so let them rest
and dream forgotten dreams in the grey shadows that they cast
when summer´s sun is shining;
and when it´s grey
then let the old songs of the kings wash all your tears away,
and keep your holy secret,
let noone know,
and think about it when you see the ruins in the snow...