Sing, Muse, of Klee, flame-bearer sprung from Alice divine,
Child of power unmatched, whose small hands stir the skies.
Red eyes aflame, in innocence cloaked, she strolled through fire,
Dodoco bouncing beside her, plush knight of valor and cheer.

Born of the omnipotent, Alice—mistress of spells and mirth—
Klee bore her mother’s might in bombs kissed by stars.
Tiny were her palms, yet destruction leapt from her grasp,
With each throw, the hills rang with thunderous doom.

Hilichurl ranks, assembled in pride and boasting crude weapons,
Fell like leaves in autumn’s fury, scattered in flame.
Her gleeful cry echoed o'er the battlefield's storm,
Where mushroom clouds danced and masks cracked in despair.

Not blade nor arrow could match the art of her explosive joy,
For Klee waged war like a playground romp beneath the sun.
Dodoco sang without voice, its stitched smile bold—
As mother’s legacy blazed forth in the hands of her child.

So the plains of Mondstadt bore witness to youthful ruin,
Not by brute strength, but by sparks from fingers so small.
And tales of the Spark Knight flew swift on wind and wing,
Of Klee, daughter of Alice, fire-born conqueror of foes.