ANGLAIS :
In fields of gold, beneath the sky,
Where colza blooms and whispers sigh,
Mysterious circles start to show,
A dance of patterns, soft and slow.
Who writes these tales upon the land?
Is it human hearts or an unknown hand?
With boards and ropes, some craft their art,
But other signs, they set apart.
Among the flowers, pressed so tight,
Some say it's done by moonlit night,
Yet there are shapes, so perfectly clear,
No trace of tools, just wonder here.
Who writes these tales upon the land?
Is it human hearts or an unknown hand?
With boards and ropes, some craft their art,
But other signs, they set apart.
Could it be minds from distant stars,
Sending messages from afar?
A call to see beyond our sphere,
To a world more vast, sincere.
If these signs are truly from the unknown,
A chance for us to see, to grow,
To understand the stars above,
And learn to live with greater love.
Who writes these tales upon the land?
Is it human hearts or an unknown hand?
With boards and ropes, some craft their art,
But other signs, they set apart.
A new horizon, open wide,
No longer shall we hide inside,
We'll seek the truths that light the night,
And grasp the infinite with might.
For in these circles, drawn with grace,
Lies a path to a wider space,
Where humankind can finally see,
The universe's grand decree.
