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...