It was the first day,
it was going fine,
I was his and he was mine
and it wasn’t what it seemed,
cause the devil doesn’t have wings.
Oh don’t let him take you, it’s not what is seems
feathered beasts can’t do doubletime,
all dressed up to look like another,
but hooves and horns would make anyone shudder.
Take the form of a girl
make men bend over backwards,
think I’ll call from below
but those golden steps,
you’ll never know!
Blonde hair
draped over red,
only to me your cloak is shed.
For the devil doesn’t have wings!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem