Cyclic as the tides is the face that I show.
Their lady moon is high, I lie far below.
I fall along with the heaven sent snow,
And quietly sleep while the sun lies low.
When the morning sun opens her shining eyes,
Sleepily but ruddy, I gradually rise.

Relaxed, I am silent.
Calm, standing tall and straight.
Only in anger do I speak.
Temper bends me as
Reeds before a gale.
In peace, I say nothing.
In war, I smile as I sing.