Origin of a Crystal Soul - Haggard

As dawn is weaving between fallen autumn leaves

The poor ones gather under naked trees

Asking how to survive, 'cause the winter breaks

And medieval coldness now from a deep sleep awakes

Libera me domine de morte, aetema in die illa tremenda

It’s December, 14th 1503, as the ones above stop their mourning

As the one arrived — selected to foresee — something changed without a warning!

(Libera me domine de morte, aetema in die illa tremenda)

Es ward geboren in des Christengottes Zeit

Ein Bub — so die Legende — mit des Schöpfers Fähigkeit

Zu sehen, was sein wird, im Verborgenen, unerkannt

Denn der mit dem Leumund des Ketzers würd öffentlich verbrannt

Die Hand, die — geifend nach dem Schönen — blutet von der Rose Dorn

Der Trieb der Menschen Habgier, bestraft durch Gottes Zorn

Er, der Spiegel eurer Seele, spürt die Trauer, Kummer, Gram

Er, der Träger dieses Namens: Michael de Notre Dame

As dawn is weaving between fallen autumn leaves

The poor ones gather under naked trees

Asking how to survive, 'cause the winter breaks

And medieval coldness now from a deep sleep awakes

Libera me domine de morte, aetema in die illa tremenda

It's December, 14th 1503, as the ones above stop their mourning

As the one arrived — selected to foresee — something changed without a warning!

(Libera me domine de morte, aetema in die illa tremenda)

It was born in the time of the Christian God

A boy - so the legend - with the Creator's ability

To see what will be, in secret, unrecognized

For he who has the reputation of a heretic would be publicly burned

The hand that thirsts for beauty bleeds from the thorn of the rose

Man's instinct for greed punished by God's wrath

He, the mirror of your soul, feels the sadness, sorrow, grief

He, the bearer of this name: Michael de Notre Dame