Lyric

You are born from the caress of the winds

Of crimson sunsets and burning dawns

Woven from threads majestic and bold

Of Mongol strokes, untamed and strong

Your neck — a yearning untamed

Your sigh — like Shamakhan wonder

Your skin glows like winter furs

Your eyes brim with royal sorrow

Amid the depths of time unfurled

A flower of the steppe stands tall

With eagle-feathered freedom

You bless the tribes one and all

Born from the touch of the wandering winds

From steppe grasses and flighting birds

From whispers of tents and rustling plains

You are the lightning of the skies

And the half-beast upon your shoulders

With barbed fangs and wolfish fur

Melds with the gold in your narrowed gaze

Binding strength with fire and wonder

Amid the depths of time unfurled

A flower of the steppe stands tall

With eagle-feathered freedom

You bless the tribes one and all

Sensing your prey, seeing in the dark

Amid the waves of the steppe-sea wide

You brew the potion of starry mist

While your horse longs for water nearby

And drunk on the call of the endless blue

A nomad of epic ascents

You whisper over wind-swept journeys

And crown the steppe with the peace of your head

Born of the winds…

Born of the steppe…

Born of the stars’ own fire…