Dear Sister, wake thee from dreaming,
Unwind your scarlet armor my dear.
Yesterday in the meadow I went
Jewel-singing, berry-red, to whom you fear.
His sword sang like an axe to the trees
At our own brethren valiant true
Beneath the crimson of his laughter
In Elwynn, dearest, my heart-home, sweet, I danced.
Your father, my lover's sword ran through.
Seven weeks, three days,
A sharp castle in blood red plague
Contained my lungs from his grip,
Yet now I see him, shadow-dancing on a blade-edge,
In combat with your history,
Dear Hejin of the troubled eyes,
A sad tale of passion concealed,
I will sew a shirt for him, my sister, dear,
Embroider our names on his lapels,
And spend festive days dallying with him in Stormwind,
My sword dangling, smoothing his hair.
I would bend bone and draw blood
For the killer of your spirit,
His shadow-night blade thrust in scarlet hips.
Hear thee my petition, sweet Sister,
For the rider of the chestnut mare.
Your love, ripped by Shadow from your bosom,
Give now freely,
For with it I will knit his heart anew,
Mine own scarlet shield lifting him up,
To the Light.