My dear brothers,
I am your elder only by a small margin,
Yet even so, I am what I am.
When the storms of life brew,
and the winds carry the rain of sorrow ~
when the weight of it all buckles your knees,
I will be your bastion,
I will be your bulwark.
With tear-shot eyes, I will scream,
I will scream until my lungs heave sore,
I will bellow defiance until I can stand no more.
For you both, I will sing odes in times of joy,
and lament our grief,
For the two of you, my younger brothers ~
Because these things you have done for me.