"I heard she calls an angel", they said,
"that shiny creature of the sky.
I think there's profit to be made.
Such things are rare to come by! "
Disheartened with a broken wing
so hard to reach the sky, to sing
the angel's praises, so naive
when truth itself seems to deceive…
What once was pure, an immaculate dream
is stained and to the hunters, I seem
to be the temptress, luscious Seyren,
death of all heavenly creatures and men.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem