Celtic Queen

Far away in the north of an island of green
a young hero heard about the singer queen.
He cried out loud: «She's mine and she will marry me!»
He travelled so far and he knew
his fortune had to come true
She’s the daughter of bears, the singer of folk,
The isle of the mighty she calls her own.
She’s the daughter of the moon, a fighter for law,
Twenty cycles ago she was born.
She looked at him, her harp in her hand and heart.
«My fortune is not to be your part.
I am a seer, a singer, a celtic queen!»
For a last time he looked at his «bride»,
his fate was to put out his light.
She’s the daughter of bears, …
For a last time he looked at his «bride»,
his fate was to put out his light