Her eyes painted blue by the majestic force above
So true, yet unreal
What the ethereal land holds, we would never know
Maybe more nymphs like her,
With gold, sun-sprayed hair and her miraculously soft skin
And the breeze of icelandic air, brought in every time she paced
Her bosoms sprang like two, upside down crescent moons,
Dragging young men and older boys who understands, along her way
Her arms graceful like angels' wings, more graceful than mine
Ah, me.
Let's not talk about my forgetful self,
I get lost in my own mind thinking about the boy that she wants,
The boy that could soar higher than eagles
A masculine figure, too good for myself?
Am I so undeserving that the icelandic nymph smiles so condescendingly?
Is she spinning the biggest web of lies to defeat this human being, myself?
Is she genuine in her thoughts,
Or is she deceitful to her own holy kind?
Oh, talk about holyness!
The only unholy one out of the hundreds, those suitors
I wish I was only a teardrop,
only so meaningless
I wish I was only a shadow,
only so obscure
I wish I was so big,
only too big to be unseen
Or maybe I wished she was the one like me.
Yet I'm still human, mortal, and defeated by her beauty.