Letra de Tors

Norfolk has sunk away, frostrow and leigh, byram gleam through the trees, a current moving across the ridge
And under my feet, through my cuffs and my sleeves, it flickers in the evening breeze and in the clouds blowing in from the east
There's a storm in the hall
White and green
A blazing whirl
My head and my knees
I swing and I roll
Like a wave of the sea
Away on the tors, tent-lace and the ropes, the goyals steep as my spine in the cold
From the Whitburn cliff when I fall to the carpet slowly with the rime and ice and needles from the pine trees
The coast might as soon
Coral and silt bright
Have been some far off moon
Through the snow cold and wild
Birch trees in the mist
Rise in the night
They might as soon, from here to the moon, like an icy tide I’m moved in the room
And the light from a train sweeps in and is lost like a lantern to the western shores