I am a blue-eyed daughter of the North and yet
the fire of Hephaestus burns in my chest.
My blood flows hot as Vesuvian lava

In my world the flowers have tongues
and smell of cinammon and myrrh
The trees sizzle with cicadas,
and the air glitters with Saharan sand,
like gold dust wafted over the sea
from an Oriental fairy tale.
On every horizon shimmers a pink mirage

I never understood those cool swans
who glide across life's waters without a ripple
or feather ruffled.
in a landscape of alabaster palaces and polished moons

I want to smash the waters into a million crystal drops,
dive in deep and yank the lilies from their roots
There is gold to be sifted
and there are pearls to be trawled
And I want to make ripples that blossom until the edge of time!