The Village's Old Man

An old man, a small village
Live story in a casket
Furcy, in the mountains
Perfume of pines and eucalyptus balm
Surround with trees on hillsides
He was there, the old men
No bitterness and no regret
Biting the instant
White long hair, straw hat
He was there, smoking his pipe
His face streaked with wrinkles
Bared the sorrow of the village
And his serene spirit
Healed the wounds of his faded heart
He lived war times, starvation times
Peace and abundant times as well
His eyes where changing tint
According to his mind
One could read inside
The story of his village
Little jewel in a casket