Majestic sunset of regrets,
like the melancholy of torn hearts,
weeping for the beauty long lost.

Let us wait no longer, for the road is calling!
Through the darkening meadows of loss,
to the misty forest of old.

The daughter of the elm king,
her voice is calling us through the fog,
a hymn of twilight to the elder race.

Mournful mysteries of the veiled lady,
whispered under the glare of the moon,
creeping among the gnarled copse.

The darkness covered our eyes,
choking the reason and the kinship,
but her song has torn the black clouds.

And the road ahead is bathed in the dark,
our blades are drawn and a lute is ready.
The infinite journey for the quest begins.

A shining star of burning souls
lights the endless paths of emptiness
No shadow can stand against us!

Her eyes are torn, bleeding silver,
A stream of pure bright gleam
Pooling over the ever-reaching trees.

Shows us the way!

On wings of sadness we travel,
With the rhythm of steel and faith,
Spiraling down as the flame.

She was lost, but we did find her!

To the secrets of ascension she guides us,
Unlocking the sealed ways of truth,
For that is the path of sorrow.

Take her hand to reach the karmic roots
As the wheel of the universe is spinning,
eternally falling into her grace...

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