Through the forest in the moonlight,
Late I saw the elves a-passing.
Heard their hunting horns resounding
Heard their bells a-kling, a-ringing.
Ponies white and wearing golden
Branching antlers, fleet as wind.
Like wild swans through the glades a-gliding
Came the band upon the wing.
Smiled the Fairy queen upon me,
Smiled and nodded, passed on by.
Does it mean a new love coming?
Does it mean that I must die?
— Heinrich Heine, 1797 – 1856
“Maybe it is a myth,
our mind overshadowing,
the truth hiding,
leads us in circles?
– Эпидемия – “Где Рождаются Рассветы”