Ere the red sun rises,
when the parish lantern has yet to set,
leaves of grass stand firm,
dripping morning’s breath.
And when the sky above,
becomes a golden haze,
it seems like every minute brings about an hour’s change.
Ere the Red Sun Rises.
Ere the Red Sun Rises.
Ghost rays cast shadows on the blowing arbor leaves,
while it’s just another morning for all the working bees.
When the night has all but gone,
and the day has yet to come,
a rooster’s crying out,
it seems the cock is having fun.

Ere the Red Sun Rises….