Tell us more, Old one-eye,
Spiller of darkness
Bringer of hope,
Builder of men.

What could I tell you,
Young and agile,
Dark dreams and light smiles

About the pits
So deep
We lost their names

Or the towers
That rose so high
We forgot about them

Or the fire
Intensely hot;
We forgot how to feel the cold,

How to embrace the night
And the morning.

There are tales of stars of battles
And heroes of blood.

There are no tales of makers of stone,
Iron and wood.
You are all those things, youths.
You are the knot in the rope,
The hand that tied it,

And the mind that knew how.