The Blood In The Snow (Too Many Wounds To Show)

On cold winter morning
I have made my walk, down the river´s flow.
The pathway I do my walking
was almost lost, covered by the snow.

Then in the morning gleam
I saw some footprints of little woman feet.
I thought that it must be a dream
and I hoped that we will meet.

With the falling snowflakes
I realised how strange does the winter blow
and that some worrying redness breaks
the calm whiteness of the snow.

And then I found her lying
having her final rest, the snow was her cloak.
There was a raven, witnessed her dying
from the highest branch of a mighty oak.

I said I saw some blood in the snow
she said she has bled a bit.
I asked if I can have a look at it
she answered she has too many wounds to show
too many wounds to show, too many wounds to show.

I said I saw some blood in the snow
she said she has bled a bit.
I asked if I can have a look at it
her answer was no, her answer was no, her answer was no.

She had too many wounds,
that she didn´t wish to show.