It happens on the banks of Hydaspes
No bird that lives has seen it thus unfold
Except the Vulture: stolen memories
The egg is laid, now upwards as you’re told!
To cliff’s edge flock, and there prepare to die!
Our Master calls us with him to go down
As flames go out the Phoenixes shall cry
All birds of Earth with Lord of theirs shall drown
A vortex made of joyful cawing beaks
They spiral splendidly into the sea
And back where tears of Hydaspes shall leak
A chick is born, a Monarch soon to be
In awe I gaze upon him, so sublime
Alerion! Our King for all of time