Abreast green hills which clothed with lush,
the prospered bloom,
where thrice each morn
'songs of dew' its stock,
the rampant edge
to testify of this divide,
where Beauty and The Beast hold to each other's gaze,
and each reflects the same
the spoils
upon themselves.

Behold the mighty windmill breathes and firms its place
whilst formed in shades of jade
meadows afar and vast,
which thus remains alive in dreams
born years gone past
and whilst the battle rages
hence the residues
this gratitude for that which I have found in you.