So it happened, the men rode away,
Dropped the crops and the vines before harvest,
From the walls we can see them the farthest,
Disappearing with nothing to say.

Ears of wheat growing deaf, unattended -
Fields are crying for reapers to come,
Winter winds blow through holes to be mended,
Barely noticed by some.

Here we wait, rush your horses along,
Let our love keep you safe on your way,
May the winds never beat on your backs, But caress them so slightly,
Then return to our homes with a song,
Willows weep for that day,
And your smiles are awaited For making the ash trees bloom brightly.

Yes, we live in our palaces swell,
No one’s let in or out of those mansions,
Ghosts of loneliness and expectation
Live instead now where you used to dwell.

And the white shirts you liked ever-starchy,
They are now neither crispy nor fresh;
Songs of old - not a reason to party,
They just eat at our flesh.

Here we wait, rush your horses along,
Let our love keep you safe on your way,
May the winds never beat on your backs, But caress them so slightly,
Then return to our homes with a song,
Willows weep for that day,
And your smiles are awaited For making the ash trees bloom brightly.

Everything aches with one common hurt,
Every day sounds the ever unfailing,
Age-old gut-wrenching, heartbreaking wailing
At the wall, where the prayers are heard.

We shall welcome you, riding or walking,
Burnt, exhausted, in one piece or not,
Anything but the gossip and gawking,
Or the news: "He got shot".

Here we wait, rush your horses along,
Let our love keep you safe on your way,
May the winds never beat on your backs, But caress them so slightly,
Then return to our homes with a song,
Willows weep for that day,
And your smiles are awaited For making the ash trees bloom brightly.