Before the shadow drove away the sun and the wolves came out from their rock houses, the king rode in
the ancient forest. Ready to fight, with the fist closed, when the wind rose murmuring to the stars…

“We are the lords of this earth
Now the putrified sovereigns nourish our ancient roots”.

From the ground trampled on among the nuclear slags and the memory of the heroes a clot of fear emerged, a dark skeleton was sibilating the words of a gloomy litany…

“We are the lords of this earth
Now the putrified sovereigns nourish our ancient roots”.

Scene two: the rhythm of the industrial machines is a drum that marks the eternal cyclic scanning… and women and men dance frightened and motionless along the ridges of the time…)

The blood-stained sun died in the sea making way for the night! The moon rose like a neon skull and the trees looked like ghosts under its beam!

“We are the lords of this earth
Now the putrified sovereigns nourish our ancient roots”.

The king saw that every stump was a body and every branch a dry and bony limb! And those eyes… and
those eyes! Fire that burns the soul!

“We are the lords of this earth
Now the putrified sovereigns nourish our ancient roots”.

An echo is swollen with eternal sighs and endless ages, with exiled ghosts by those who usurped the
world… And the wind shook the earth’s pillars! A tangle of horror was on him and wrapped the king in a
cloth soaked with coagulated blood. Everything was clear… everything was clear! Like a dream in the
morning sleep…

“We are the lords of this damp and dark earth, before the kings who defined the world and before the queens
dressed up with the oxidized gold that lies in the graves and the putrified sovereigns who now nourish our ancient
roots”.