Oh gentle winds 'neath moonlit skies,'
Do not you hear my heartfelt cries?

Below the branches, here about,
Do not you see my hearts a'skew?
Beneath the thousand twinkling stars,
Do not you feel my jagged scars?

Seek not my mournful heart kind breeze,
For you'll not find it 'mongst these trees.

It's scattered 'cross the moonlit skies,
Accompanied by heartfelt sighs.
It's drifting o're the gentle rain,
A symbol of my silent pain.

It's buried 'neath the meadow fair,
Conjoined with all the sorrow there.
It's lost among the stars this night,
Too far to ease my quiet fright.

No gentle winds, seek not my heart,
For simply ... it has torn apart.

Penned by my hand on the 20th of Bellum, in the year 466 AD.