Melting dews on withered grass,
Freezing wind so cold when pass,
Falling rust from aged brass,
Sitting they see the walking mass.
...
Wheels spinning everywhere
Feet walking here and there
Breeze of a dusty air,
Among was a man of grey hair.
...
When the darkness moved away
And the sun came across the sky,
Turning it into golden-red,
Perhaps saying that
...