Classic Poem

White as my mother's name, chaste as the moon, fresh as spring showers I come to you .
I convey the mildly veiled distance of slender words, I carry the murmurring garment of green fields .
The queen of the fairy tale walks along with me, the white kid nibbles at the grass in my hand .
My peacock has spread its golden wings; the night lies under a bolt, the terror lies enchained .