She rises like the blood moon.
In a sky from bursting Nebulae;
To the land of VEYMAI and fill'd the air
with dulcet fragrance of sweet cinnamon spice.
The wind of summer came from far away!
Gracefully she glow with passing spring.
Of snow upon the mountain moors.
Like the newly budded flower.
Her laughter unseen free as the air.
Blushing through the mist and dew;
Feeling the air along the mossy sycamore.
There the naiad mid her reeds,
Like breeze on breeze no stir of air was there
O VEYMAI !come away and give her a heart.
For she should not fade of onism;
Though thou hast not the bliss.
O fairest lady of psyche
There beauteous ! Good life be thine.
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