Here often I gaze out o’er the seas,

When winter snows have gone to spring so fair

Alone, except for butterflies and bees,

Remembering the times we used to share.

Your spirit soars o’er places where I’d walk,

Not holding any friend on earth so true,

Upon my shoulder, good and faithful hawk,

O Skarlath, there was never one like you!

With heavy heart I sit alone in grief,

Lord of the mountain, ruling over all,

Wishing I could split a single leaf,

To bring you back again, with our old call.

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