An inner journey projected onto a twilight landscape, where nature ceases to be a mere backdrop and becomes a mirror and extension of the self’s subjectivity. The forest—a recurring space in symbolic tradition as a place of loss, initiation, and confrontation with the unspeakable—appears here “dried up,” “blackened,” and enveloped by a light that slowly fades. This dying light represents not only the end of the day but also the conscious abandonment of external illusions and certainties.

The trees, with their “twisted branches,” take on almost anthropomorphic contours, described as “frightening silhouettes.” However, the fear they evoke is not external: they are “intertwined with my soul,” blending body, nature, and interiority. The visceral image of the “entrails” suggests that this forest is, above all, psychic—an intimate territory where the self recognizes itself in its dark zones, without resistance or escape.
It is in this context that an essential paradox of the poem emerges: “Alone, but not empty / Dazzled, but not in vain.” Loneliness ceases to be a lack and becomes a condition of fullness; the detachment from the world is not nihilistic, but selective. The self distances itself “from everything that is of no interest,” rejecting “illusions that are nothing,” in a gesture of existential purification. There is an echo here of an almost ascetic or contemplative posture, in which renunciation leads to clarity.

The absence of sunlight — “without light that blinds and kills” — is significant: the excessive luminosity of reason, noise, and exposure is rejected in favor of a more subtle clarity. The “gloomy” moon, despite the funereal tone it carries, possesses “an innate beauty,” suggesting that there is an aesthetic and a truth of its own in the twilight. The poem revalues ​​darkness not as a negation of life, but as a fertile space for listening and revelation.

The final verse — “The wisdom of silence / Now dwells within me” — functions as a synthesis and culmination. After immersion in the inner forest, the self does not return with grandiose answers, but with internalized silence, transformed into wisdom. It is not an imposed silence, but a chosen one; not emptiness, but full presence. An ethics of interiority is proposed: it is in recollection, in confrontation with the shadow, and in attentive listening to silence that the subject finds himself and reconciles with himself.

Track lyrics translated to English:

Forever forgotten
The light slowly fades
Among the withered leaves
Of the twilight forest

The twisted branches of the trees
Hideous silhouettes
Intertwined with my soul
They are my very entrails

Alone, but not empty
Dazzled, but not in vain
Far from all that doesn’t matter
From illusions that are nothing

In this blackened forest
without light that blinds and kills
Beneath a somber moon
of innate beauty

The wisdom of silence
Now, dwells within me