A season clear
When Arien’s heat is dim
And quickly through the sky she skims
Despair not all ye creatures of the land
Rejoice at the coming of the season grand.
When Tilion climbs the sky oh so high
With imgaes of ancient days in his eye
Gaze upon the countless stars clear
Strewn across the celestial sphere
For from bitter cold out of malice born
Coming down as a grinding storm
Lo and behold beauty divine, wondrous sight
The land covered in purest white.
So breathe in the air cool
Sing to the celestial jewel
Stride trough the blazing flurry
While all the land forgets of hurry
Sleep and quiet, mirth and fest
Of all the seasons, Rhîw is best.
