Answer:
Through its wounds, water does run. It once held many but now has none. What is it?
Halo of water, tongue of wood. Skin of stone, long I've stood. My fingers short reach to the sky. Inside my heart men live and die.
This is in a realm of true and in a realm false, but you experience me as you turn and toss.
In your fire you hear me scream, creaking and whining, yet I am dead before you lay me in your hearth.
One by one we fall from heaven down into the depths of past, And our world is ever upturned so that yet some time we’ll last.
They are many and one, they wave and they drum, Used to cover a state, they go with you everywhere.