Light runs down on her cold skin
As she stands atop the hill,
The first of this age-old kin,
She brings to watchers a thrill
That exceeds comprehension,
Her delicate complexion
In the barren lands up north
Brings the greatest courage forth.
By the hand that gave her life
– With his inner love in tune –
Through the sharp edge of the knife
Shines the sun, dances the moon.