In ancient days, in ancient life, the gods danced. She watches me.
The flames of passion are calling to me. Her grace, like a darting doe.
Tender is her way, Pallid her skin, like recent snow, fallen to the earth.
Her lips were made of rubies, placed by some mischievous god.
The power of her charms keeps her in safety, even from the high immortal gods.
To be chased!
To pursue her is an exercise in futility.
Her swiftness is a gift beyond immortal gift and ability.
Tell me, by the High Ones, who is this daughter of the forests?
Give me some gift to inflame the desires of her heart. Let me know the secret.
Let me hold the keys of her heart.

In diebus antiquis, in antiqua vita, Di saltaverunt.
Ea me observat. Flammae cupiditatis mihi vocant.
Gratia sua, similiter provolans cervam. Tenera est via sua.
Cutis sua pallidam est, sicut recentem nivem quae in terram cecidit.
Labra sua carbunculorum factae sunt, ab lascivo aliquo deo ponebantur.
Potens venustatum suorum eam in tuto tenet, etiam a immortalibus altis deis.
Insequi illam est palaestram in futilitate!
Celeritas sua est donum extra immortala dona et potentia.
Dic mihi, Dis Altis! Quaene hanc filiam silvarum est?
Dare mihi aliquod donum incendere desideria illius cordis.
Secretam intellegam. Claves eius cordis teneam.

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