What the phantom that stands before
A formless substance I claim no more
O shadowed soul o ghost of me
I repent this philosophy

Am I kull? Or his reflection dim
A shadow cast of that distant king
A strange whim of lesser form
A far flung dream on moonbeams born

Gaze in to my mirrors,
Let wisdom fall
Time strides onwards, nations fall
Strange are my visions
What is truth?
The mirrors of tuzun thune

Earl or beggar, wizard or king
Men desire just one thing
Gold and power, or the thrill of war
The single wisdom of stranger doors