Dress her as an eagles— in wings...
Dress her as a snake — in skin...
Only if the door will squeak in silence
And she run off to carry her burden...
 
But when she choke with the sky
And when she sees enough of the abyss,
Lure her with rye bread...
Speak with her always truthfully...
 
Don’t look into her eyes ‪at midnight‬.
Don’t show her the full moon.
She knows, your hand always helps her...
Don’t smooth the waves of her hair...
 
Whatever you whisper to her, she knows.
She tell you everything — silently...
When her grief grabs her tightly
Forgive her that wolfish look...
 
Never fear and not to swear at the witches...
And never kiss her shoulders in vain...
She has one destiny —
to fly over the wind...
And she has nothing to pay you back for.