On the harvest awakened
A true-blooded arrow
A merging of polars
From the sea to the earth
By the bright golden egg
Hatched of the southern lands
Look to the north
Planted seeds shall grow
On battered cliff sides
By churning seas of fate
A sword will lead
And turn the fallow earth
The essence of man
Is to be grasped by the hilt
From the east to the west
Winds howl endless
A signpost of oak
Weathers the seasons
The call of a sparrow
Pierces the silence
Midwinter sun stands
Forever illuminated
Where regents ponder their mortality
In somber gilded halls
A sword will teach
With the meads of knowledge
To intoxicate the wise
In the night-time of awakening
We shovelled the earth
And by daybreak
The sapling had prospered
A well of desires
Unleashed to the streams
A kindling of branches
Shall evolve to flame
Within a circle of ancient yew
A titan oak of Borean blood
Root of the northern world
From where to descend the beard of time
Plunge a horn in the cosmic spring
And sow the fallow earth
With eternity's astral seed
