The skies of Troy are always bright, The sun has no veil, But I am longing for the light That’s cold and pale. I am born to be a princess high Of marbles stony-white I’d rather dead in coffin lie A pale, cold bride.
But the winds of the west Call me secretly in Where they live and they rest, And I dream. But the winds of the west Wobble wistfully while I am waiting for them And I cry.
I am waiting for the two white birds That take me on their wings And get me to the land that hurts By its melodious strings. I would be dancing in the streams Of cold mountain lake, I would be singing of my dreams To the pearl-feathered drake.
The drake would turn into a man With blue and restless eyes And he would guide me through this land That in the ocean lies. And from the people of the world We’d hide under the veil And our song would be unheard, And beautiful, and pale