Swan, swan, to sound and to sing. A voice traded for beauty;
from sacred wells she drinks, carrying a delicate and dangerous magic;
charmer of souls, devourer of pearls. Elegant, she glides, over cold lakes
and slow rivers; wings raised like white sails beckoning her twin flame.
Interloping eyes feast on what is wild and pure, precious and free;
losing all sense of boundaries, to possess a prize full of grace and dignity;
even gods and kings will steal her feather gown, claiming her as their own;
gracious she will remain until the release of her first and final song.