Owl upon the oak tree branch
you hear the stream and the singing larks

you hunt and fly in the night
you glide across the mountain heights
you fly over the highest peaks
you pray you won`t hurt your beak

although you glide
so carefully you may
hurt your wing so painfully

and you see some places
as you glide you see the sea
and the lapping tide

you fill the forest with magic
and hope while your journey may
fall down a rocky slope