The western cloud spreads forth
with eagerness to see the smiling
sun walking above the diamond sealed ocean

holding the specter of the sky which calls the horn of the unicorn to the eyes of it's admirer,

the wind sold off harmonic tunes to the flute which my lips bears, filling the air with scents you'd perceive to be myrrh,

I will ride the ox of Greece as a token to the strength of our roots beneath the cold soil,

Trees are like our bound which will stands firm unto the fiercest of all storms,

Like flowers we'll continue to sprout new petals linking our paths to the sky.