"That old brilliant city of sunrise...eznora.
There was no place for hatred there.
People lived happily for hundreds of years.
...Until the day that the armies of ohrad arrived from sunset and wreaked havoc in eznora...
Kalihora was just a little girl of seven years old at the time.
Like every other child she loved to sing and play.
But war had no taste of a child's songs and games.
And this world of impotence was not to yield before love, but only power.
The crimson rage of the blood and fire ruled the world.
Even the most powerful kings remained silent before this massacre.
Thousands of little hearts, including kalihora's, were not to beat anymore.
The gates of time were sealed with shame, not to be broken again.
She would always be seven years old from that time on.
Just like all that children.
Another star disappeared while kalihora ascended to heaven.
Only things remained on the streets of eznora, were mourning chants of angels and the sweet song of kalihora.
If you visit the old city of sunset, even today, you may hear the melodies of kalihora's song in the air."
Elivent senthura suhr havelora
Avelar herenis o nira
Beribent senthura suhr havelora
Nerha ven'hu thera
She was free like the wind
And her heart was shining like stars
But her life was short like butterflies
That she had lost in the war of shame
A little child in the cold and dark
A silent cry in this merciless game
Now echoing on the streets
And you hear kalihora's song
This new world face true pains
Children cry with endless rain
Now echoing on the streets
And you hear kalihora's song
Elivent senthura suhr havelora
Avelar herenis o nira
Beribent senthura suhr havelora
Nerha ven'hu thera
