Tel'Quessir in the silent death of dance,
of Beautiful twirl and of whistling blades,
down through the glorious & mystic glades,
thy gently spin, twirl and enter the trance.
Murmuring of the somber, wordless tunes,
to protect the elven way of life; they
are sent, fiery tempers into the fray:
is of Tethrin Veraldé’s greatest boons.
Swift as the falcon, deadly as the snake:
in a gentle and mesmerizing song,
proud elves bathe in light of the sun & moon.
With movements as agile as the cats, rake:
I invoke the art & grace of Blade’s song,
that is written in the Espruar runes.
