When you climb up to the Acropolis and overlook the panoramic view of Athens, you will see: The buildings are built against the mountains, covered in white, like a cloud falling from the blue sky, surrounded by mountains. Thousands of years ago, this place was a sanctuary ruled by Athena, the goddess of wisdom, and was the cradle of Western civilization that nurtured democracy and art. After being plundered by many wars, her former prosperity and glory can only be glimpsed from the ruins of the temple.
Just like the love that slumbers underground, the glorious civilization and the touching legends have all become poignant elegy in the mysterious years.
Thousands of years ago, the net of destiny cast by the three sisters Moira, the withered World Tree in Gaia's garden... These are just lies and conspiracies left over from ancient times. They are not as good as the joy that filled my heart when you were with me in the valley of Enna. It is so real and makes people miss you so much.
Thousands of years later, ancient legends freeze into distant scenes, and sweet love fades into withered memories on papyrus.
I would like to sing a song softly based on my memory, passing through thousands of years and the mists of time, just to reach your ears again.
The flowers of the wind fall due to the wind and then grow due to the wind.