On the wings of destiny, the eagle soars,

from the valley of tears, from lands of death;

where the skulls whisper the ancient defeats,

where skeletons dance to the sound of the wind.

In that kingdom of shadow, under skies of ash,

the eagle found her cage of thorns;

but her courage was a gift to her, from the Father, the Creator,

who paints dawn and dusk in the skies.

With a flap of wings, powerful, proud,

she frees herself from the chains of fear and pain;

takes flight among clouds that cry the world,

towards the blue that she calls, promise of infinity.

Her cry resonates, a hymn to life,

challenge to evil, to demons, to silent darkness;

every flap of a wing a triumph of light,

each flight a sermon of hope and virtue.

Thus, the eagle rises, touches the ethereal,

leaving behind the valley of tears;

in her heart, a flame lit by the Father,

that not even the darkest night can extinguish.

She now she flies, queen of the skies,

towards the divine with feather tips;

she carries high the message of the courage she has received,

that from the heart of death life can be born.