The wandering tribe with burning, distant eyes

Has set out at dawn, carrying their young

Close to their hearts, or guided by the rhythm

Of a life that flows, ever-giving and warm.

The men walk on beneath their shining steel

Along the carts where loved ones rest inside,

Their weary gaze drifts softly toward the sky,

Haunted by dreams that time has left behind.

⸻

Dreams left behind

⸻

From sandy shadows, a quiet voice of earth

Rises to sing as they slowly pass by;

The land itself seems to awaken for them,

Green growing deeper, life breaking through stone,

And even the desert begins to bloom…

⸻

Before these travelers,

An unseen path unfolds,

A distant realm awaits—

Of shadows yet to come.

⸻

The wandering tribe with burning, distant eyes

Has set out again, carrying their young,

Guided by something ancient and unseen,

A quiet force that leads them ever on.

⸻

Before these travelers,

An unseen path unfolds,

A distant realm awaits—

Of shadows yet to come.

(repeat)

⸻

(strong melody over cyclic base, flute elements)

⸻

(fading into distance)