The original, in Crowtongue, is followed by a loose translation in Common.

Tz gruk q'lwn Yeralih Carthan, tzya Ir'rala'mor -
D'liom oari tzya doim'i oari d'inu.
Kju fesy sh'kai korg oari'd'iom n'h tzya t'mor?
Crakait kju n'h hapsk oari d'iom q'wl hopsk'i oari'kju.
Tzya K'lian'lom z'tch eom kju il'a'lah d'eomer ch'or.
Q'an kintra eom'i hopsyai n'hd'l hudthu.
Khak'd't il'a'lah q'hord'l glor.
Z'yi glor il'a'lah tzya kah oari'kju.

Tz shri'ai q'lwn Yeralih Carthan, tzya Ir'rala'mor -
Tzya k'wilor oari mord shri'n'i.
N'h pik'i oarie'l h tzya kuthr'i oari kha hopsk'i dianor.
Tzik shiyai'at qa tzya A'Kare'Niar hishn'i.
Tzik il'a'lahiyat s'r'k.
Tzik srish quo h'sr sir tzya fre'an oari tzya hopsk.
Kju n'li'wa skruf s'som hrt n a's'somo'rk?
Kju n'li'wa skruf est hrt n tzya msoi'osk?

Tz orkr q'lwn Yeralih Carthan, tzya Ir'rala'mor -
'T e'l h'r'k qa'ern tzya glor oari f'el'ai,
E'l m'lah oari'e'l rg oari'e'l n'vt'or.
Msoi q'lwn tzya eom oari tzya lom oari'd'iom fih aen'ye'ai,
Z'tch il'a'lah tzya prit oari tzya K'liane.
Ork'al'i oari tzya'w'la irn d'iom'em'wl m'kai'w.
Ra'sa il'a'lahiyat zo'pah e'pt f'sh nyor tzya ne.
Z'yi, tz a'kwam, fih tzya Doim'ur qa al'mai'w.

Tz w'sh q'lwn Yeralih Carthan, tzya Ir'rala'mor -
Tzya kr'k'i ha'vwm kju qa d'l kha q'on, tuqh kha q'an.
Tzya N'lit kn'al n'li'wa ois dydhis'i oari'kju'mor.
Fih B'or fih K'wah cht'cht kz'i'i kn'al ra's'an.
A'wl'an oari'kju ai'ye kha n'lin skr't tzya ora'sk.
Mor skr't tzya n'li'wa im il'a'lahiya i.
Z'yi'i sir'i srish d'wal oari'kju n'h tzya hapsk.
Yeralih, Yeralih, Yeralih.

Translation:

We thirst for Yeralih Carthan, the Southern Darkness -
The mother of the Murder of a hundred.
Do you hear our voices on the wind?
We call you into our present from your pasts.
The Glomdoring that loves you is lover enough
When other loves pass into shadow.
A family is bound by blood.
This blood is your answer.

We weep for Yeralih Carthan, the Southern Darkness -
The bearer of black sorrows.
In her eyes linger the ghosts of a passing age.
They fade not as the Wyrd continues to weave.
They are not silent.
They whisper like wind through the rushes of the past.
Will you find rest that is not oblivion?
Will you find peace that is not the grave?

We remember Yeralih Carthan, the Southern Darkness -
Though she would shed not the blood of another
She gives of her own that her own might live.
To die for the love of our forest and rise again,
That is the Lady's way.
Trials of the past have made us all stronger.
Mistakes are illusions best scattered though the void
This, we remember, and the Blacktalon do not err.

We sing for Yeralih Carthan, the Southern Darkness -
The storms have blown you not to a where, but a when.
The North shall hate your dark children,
And East and West mutter friendships that shall fail.
Your legacy travels an arc that marks the sky.
Darkness marks the spirit that could be once more.
These winds whisper your name in the present.
Yeralih, Yeralih, Yeralih.