Hark, thou seeker of frost and fey,
Who treadeth in scarlet night’s ballet;
On Lunatic path, where bullets fly,
The Ice-Sprite Cirno lifteth high.

Lo! In Stage the second she maketh her stand,
By Misty Lake’s enchanted strand;
Her wings of crystal, her gaze full bright,
She greeteth the player with frosty might.

Behold! She scattereth shards so wild,
An icy tempest, reckless child.
Thee must weave ‘twixt bullets blue,
In measured arcs, thine aim kept true.

She boasteth: “The Strongest, I am she!”
And calleth forth icicles from yon tree.
From left and right they pierce the air,
Stand not beneath—else meet despair.
Shift lightly, wait the gap to show,
Then strike her down with steady blow.

Again she flings her frost in sprays,
A frozen gale, a childish craze.
Yet though chaotic, patterns hide,
With gentle tap thou shalt abide.

O mortal beware! For in this guise,
Her icy lances crisscross skies.
Both sides at once rain frozen death,
Yet patience guardeth thy fleeting breath.
Seek out the rhythm, the gap so small,
Slip like a shadow ‘twixt each fall.

Her laughter ringeth, shrill and cold,
She tests thee yet with courage bold.
The orbs in spirals outward roll,
Keep center true to save thy soul.

Now cometh bane of many a knight,
She freezeth the field in sudden fright!
All bullets halt—then burst anew,
In cruel cascade of sparkling blue.
Mark where they still, remember their frame,
Else chaos devoureth thy noble aim.
Thus move thou swiftly ere they wake,
And strike her down ‘fore thy bones shall break.

Her strength now waneth, her wings still gleam,
She flings last shards in scatter’d stream.
A flurry mad, yet short the span,
Outlast, outshoot—thou surely can.

So falleth Cirno, sprite of frost,
Who croweth “Strongest!” though battle’s lost.
Yet take her lightly? Never dare,
For Lunatic’s hand is none to spare.