Oh, I know that summer makes its last, desperate stand,
When the thunder of distant storms roars across the land.
Warrior giants - one or fire and one of fire and one of ice -
Have built their battle-home in the thunderheads.
Where He of Fire does warmth and life entice,
He of Ice hails coldness and death instead.
And though my heart hopes for the warm-warrior's triumph,
The sun's southfall tells me of whom this battle belongs.
Though the sun favors him not,
Summer's warrior fights courageously.
The once distant thunder - now overhead -
And frozen winds now descending
Tell me the fire warrior has fallen
And death is rising to make the land pure.