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 
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