In the quiet of the ancient woods, I hear their distant cries,
Whispers of the ancestors, beneath the twilight skies.
They speak of lands forgotten, where their spirits roam,
In the shadows of the mountains, they have made their home.

Through the misty valleys, their echoes softly tread,
Telling tales of yesteryears, of valor and of dread.
Their wisdom like the rivers, that carve the earth so deep,
In the silence of the night, their secrets I shall keep.

Beneath the ancient oak trees, where their memories lie,
I feel their presence guiding, though unseen by my eye.
Their strength flows through my veins, a legacy so strong,
In the dance of life and death, they sing their timeless song.

As I walk this path of life, their shadows by my side,
In the winds that whisper softly, their spirits will abide.
With each step I honor, the lineage I uphold,
For in the heart of history, their stories are retold.