Far away in the castle, Your revered echelon, Your pure majestic skin, And your untainted generous heart, Have become the most appealing living things I've ever seen, Royal blood and Highness' sweetheart, But I'm just a wretched citizen, Routinely as a blacksmith, Single bread and rocking chair, Destitution and poverty-stricken, I have never been complaining the way the God treats me, To me it is just enough to get to see your beauty and hearty at the same time, The folks were saying that you are the descending angel, Spreading your wings over the entire people's heart, Sending the warmth with a hug, Delivering the happiness with a deed, They feel safe, I feel safe too, But feel sad a little, For just because I'm a blacksmith.