The descendants of of the sky

Clouded by mysterious mists of time

Hy-Brasil eludes the unworthy

And showers the pure with gifts of gold and silver

Appearing only in the most spiritual of years

The priests guard the knowledge of the universe

For it is not for mortal ears

But only for the ascended

All hail the rabbit-people!

Quick and clever

They have many places to hide

But they are quick to give their happiness to others

Keep an eye to the future says the rabbit

For soon we shall be forgotten in the fog