A boy stands in a stormy green-lit meadow, looking up at a towering moss-bearded giant with glowing green eyes, as weeping maidens are bound at the giant's feet under a full moon.

The lad stood pale as the ancient tale unfolded before his gaze, And the stars above in their ordered love revealed the rest of his days. He saw blood and steel on a shattered field and a wound no healer could mend, Yet beyond the pain like the coming rain he beheld a stranger end. Well, he left the well with its cosmic spell and followed the road foretold, Where the mountains rose and the north wind froze and the clouds were iron and cold. And there one dawn on a meadow drawn beneath a storm-green sky, He saw the giant whose head seemed high enough to trouble the clouds on high. The monster strode like a moving hill with a beard of moss and vine, And his eyes burned green with a fevered sheen that was older than oak or pine. Around his feet the maidens wept in chains of twisted thorn, While the giant laughed and the earth itself seemed weary and war-worn. Mehr sehen