They came in lines, like gods in mail
With eagle gold and faces pale
Through forest deep and skies grown black
They bore the law on painted back

The roads grew slick, the guides grew strange
And every turn began to change
The legions walked, but did not see
The forest grinned through every tree

Legiones redde, ash and blood
The ground gave way, the path was mud
No empire stands when roots have teeth
And pride is pierced by thorns beneath

They struck from fog, from branch and stone
A thousand cries against the throne
The standard fell, the trumpets cracked
And Varus watched his fate attacked

No rein, no line, just broken cries
As steel met bone beneath grey skies
Three eagles lost, three names erased
A thousand graves the forest placed

Legiones redde, gone to shade
Where fire meets the ambuscade
No road was carved, no glory won
Only silence when they were done

“Quinctili Vare…” – so he cried
With walls around and hands that died
He tore his robe, he cursed the air
But no reply from woodland lair

Legiones redde — too late, too deep
The forest keeps what Romans weep
And still the trees, in whispers low
Repeat the name they’ll never know

Umbrae manent… The shadows remain.