The faeries grew large
Dancing that old European style
With candles in their hands
And mist rolling around their feet
Three small caskets adorned in silver
Floating down the Acheron
Pink, purple, and black palls
Under the blasts of fireworks
Countless men laid down their lives
For the infant princess
Only twelve held fast in the longship
That brought her home to the heavens
The fire dancer begins her swifter motions
Leto's wolves have a chthonic monster by the throat
A woman becomes the lioness
There is vengeance
And it is blessed by the spirit of the Earth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem