[Verse 1] Smoke rises slowly from the roof, The evening settles on the ground. A woman works beside the fire, The spindle turns without a sound. A wooden bowl, a loaf of bread, A child comes running through the door. Someone is mending worn-out leather, While footsteps cross the earthen floor. [Verse 2] The weaver's hands move back and forth, A knife cuts patterns into wood. The dogs lie sleeping by the doorway, The smell of supper fills the room. Outside, the horses shift and breathe, The last light fades behind the trees. A neighbour brings another log, And settles down beside the heat. [Chorus] Here the hours have room to breathe, And hands are busy, hearts at ease. No need to chase the fading sun, There's work to do when day is done. The earth beneath, the open sky, The turning seasons passing by. And in the rhythm of these days, Something in me finds its place. [Instrumental Interlude] [Verse 3] A story travels round the fire, Someone laughs and shakes his head. A little girl has fallen asleep, Her cheek against a folded thread. The bowls are washed, the tools laid down, Tomorrow waits beyond the night. And through the cracks of wooden shutters, The stars appear in fading light. - How can I miss a life I've never known? A place I've never called my home? I hear another world beyond these walls, A restless world that never stops. Too much to carry, too much to bear, Too many sounds in the very air. And I wonder... Was I born too late? [Instrumental] [Final Chorus] Here the hours have room to breathe, And hands are busy, hearts at ease. The fire burns low, the night draws near, The voices of the living here. The earth beneath, the open sky, The turning seasons passing by. And though that world is far from mine, Its rhythm lives beneath my skin. [Outro] A wooden bowl, a fading flame, The world moves on... But I remain.
