The stars are very beautiful, above the palace walls,
They shine with equal splendor, still above far humbler halls.
I watch them from my window, but their bright entrancing glow,
Reminds me of the freedom I gave up so long ago.

The royal laurels of bright gold rests lightly on my brow,
I once thought only of the rights these laurels would endow.
But once I took the crown to which I had been born and bred,
I found it heavy on the heart, though light upon the head.

Although I am the head of state, in truth I am the least,
The true King knows his people fed, before he sits to feast.
The good King knows his people safe, before he takes his rest,
Thinks twice and thrice and yet again, before he makes request.

For they are all my children, all, that I swore to defend,
It is my duty to become both King and trusted friend—
And of my children high and low, from beggar to above,
The dearest are my Primarchs, whom return my care with love.

The dearest are my Primarchs, swift to spring to my command.
Who give me aid and fellowship, who always understand
That land and people first have needs that I may not deny—
So I must send my dearest sons to danger—and to die.

A friend, a warrior, a scholar—it matters not, I know indeed,
That I must sacrifice them all if there should be the need.
They know, and they forgive me—doing more than I require,
With willing minds and loving hearts go straight to grasp the fire.

These tears that burn my eyes are all the tears the King can't shed,
The tears I weep in silence as I mourn my Primarchs dead.
Oh gods that dwell beyond the stars, if you can hear my call—
And if you have compassion—let me send no more to die!