My my, how you have grown
From a delicate rose petal
With brush-stroke perfect lips
And kisses soft as snow
To a fierce warrior
Holding her bow
Aimed at those crooked soldiers
Who dare to storm the plains down below
As they prepare to ransack our sacred home.
I remember long ago
You used to play innocently in that meadow
Before it was washed crimson from bloodshed
And now you stand victorious
Overlooking the fallen battlefield all alone
My little rose, our village’s hero.