For being too foolish a poet,
a sea witch has hexed me,
and now I stumble hungry
through wheat fields, imagine
the moon to be my lover,
and shun society.
O, who will deliver me?
There is a woman whose
golden hair and laughing eyes
have often enticed me,
whose crystal sword and
glowing shield have often
awed me, whose bravery is
unmatched, whose armor
is made of basilisk scales,
and whose warrior’s contempt
makes the spring flowers tremble.
She alone can save my soul,
but alas! Her kiss is just
another kind of curse.