Aligned at the shore Gazing through the wind and waves Under the morrow sky Autumn clouds and pouring gray Watchful and waiting They all look forward to this day Horizon holds promise Of welcomed sight Sails returning His pallid eyes searched every place But could not find the old man's face The firstborn son of winter's twelve A weakling built on fragile stem Arrival came upon the shore Brought in on land by wind and oars At last "Our fates lie in your hands" First in line to greet his father Wise and old with seasoned men "He fell and died On the sands and left you The rule of house and lands As he stood, now you must stand" The stormy winds shall rip and tear The crashing waves will grind and break Foundations crumble under burden's weight Until the weakling longs for the fire "The boy won't live through winter" A youngling without strength fell His pyre roared fiery and bright As it ignited Smoke rose from his corpse When he burned and scorched Until the last shred was gone "Father I have let you down And with you house and land will fail In death I know, I cannot lift the curse upon our lands Until the sun has withered, unless they die Under that sky Will be a miserable place A grim and desolate sight A torment that cannot be escaped"