Et in Arcadia Ego.

Aye, I will make naught but snow and cold wind of the pacific parts and mighty hosts.

Verily, I say, here in Utopia, I am suzerain

I am winter, and while I'm here, all is Anareta.

Not even the peace of Arcadia, can stand against me.

The prosperity of the fields are grayed 

The graze of the cattle is ceased

The shepherds surrender to me, and the fields, cold and white and hard, are left untended.

Aye, an icey wasteland is this pastoral fantasy

Verily I say, here in Arcadia, I am suzerain

I am winter, and while I'm here, all is Anareta.

Not even the armies of Empires, can stand against me.

The oil of the engines is frozen

The troops devour the flesh of their horses

The very fiery passion that propelled them to make bloody steel in an odd land, is an extinguished flame

Aye, a martial joke is this esteemed company of conquerors.

Verily I say, here in Campus Martius, I am suzerain.

I am winter, and while I'm here, all is Anareta.

Not even the drive for freedom, can stand against me.

The fields bear nothing to reap

The colony perishes

The new world that was to allow men to eat the prosperous fruits of their labors, has eaten men alive.

Aye, a mere retrograde is this land of freedom

Verily I say, here in Liberia, I am suzerain

I am winter, and while I'm here, all is Anareta

Aye, but a small town shall bear forth a Divine Child, and He will welcome home the cold, lost sheep.

Verily I say, there in the Heavens, He is King

He is Christ God, and He will destroy the power of cold death over his people.