Five flying pure white doves taking to the air,
She’ll face defeat where waters meet, and who alive will care?

Four flying pure white doves, but one is dark as sin.
He’ll be slain upon a plain by bloody-handed kin.

Three flying pure white doves refuse to end the fight.
One makes no sound deep underground, and soon shall fall the night.

two flying pure white doves, the youngest and the old.
She’ll fall to blows upon the snows, and die bloody and cold.

One poor pure white dove has lost the will to fly.
When he is gone, She’ll see the dawn, and Death herself will die.

The Power of Death