In Old Mondstadt transpired the story to be told
Where a tyrant ruled, I met a boy, not that old
The lyre he played, and for a song he sought
But storm-walls blocked blue sky — he was sincerely distraught
"I do so wish to see the birds in flight"
Said he, his strong eyes filling with light
But his voice was lost in the howling wind's churn
For the whirlwind takes, and gives naught in return
The true sky, and songs that cageless soar...
Were they not wishes worth fighting for?
So the boy turned, extending his hand:
"Let us cast down the tyrant and his walls from this land"
The young boy raised then the flag of revolt
And I threw myself into freedom's tumult
Victorious were we who fought to be free
Gods fell, winds whipped, nations shook violently
In the smoke, a despot met his doom
And we watched as his great tower fell none too soon
Mondstadt began anew, the story passed down
And since then never has another worn its crown