Tintal /

The Winds of the West

The skies of Troy are always bright,
The sun has no veil,
But I am longing for the light
That’s cold and pale.
I am born to be a princess high
Of marbles stony-white
I’d rather dead in coffin lie
A pale, cold bride.

But the winds of the west
Call me secretly in
Where they live and they rest,
And I dream.
But the winds of the west
Wobble wistfully while
I am waiting for them
And I cry.

I am waiting for the two white birds
That take me on their wings
And get me to the land that hurts
By its melodious strings.
I would be dancing in the streams
Of cold mountain lake,
I would be singing of my dreams
To the pearl-feathered drake.

The drake would turn into a man
With blue and restless eyes
And he would guide me through this land
That in the ocean lies.
And from the people of the world
We’d hide under the veil
And our song would be unheard,
And beautiful, and pale