i want to go back to march, 
where my eyes were green 
and my mind not so keen.
where the arch 
in my back pointed out fierce —

stallion in the black night piercing 
through the woods, i am now 
a silent knight with a shining sword, bow
to me — beg mercilessly for my hearings,
spring long gone, you have no flowers —

nor i a child, the weight of my dour 
crown is my only babe, she keeps me warm
a blanket in the harsh cold from where i was born,
the frost covers my silk brown 
hair, and my skin is pale winter.

perish in the lake of ice, i emerge victor. 
now a dragon with wings of wind,
breath of wrath — let me sing you a refined song,
let me burn you bitter
to dust and ash, as i have done to myself.