(Part I of 'The Four Times of Love')
Young and pretty little Winter,
Whose future had no hinter,
Whose life was born to glitter,
Whose wit was of a witter
Eyes o' color o' cloudy sky,
An intelect kind of sly,
Serving as beauty's underlie,
For whom all boys woul' like to die
Soft and pale type o' skin,
Long hair colored o' moccasin,
One silhouette somewhat thin,
A girl without someone akin
Could have world between her hands,
Could be creator o' big trends,
Could transform wishes in demands,
Could have men in packs and bands,
But equally special was her desire,
An' in her soul burn'd quite a fire
Quite as such none could aspire
To please her as she woul' require
And sorrow stroke her mind
For she wasn't coming to find
Something to link in a bind
Someone amongst mankind
And bit by bit girl got sick,
As everything seemed so hick,
Her desease got 'er quick,
There was no cure to pick
For uniqueness was her trait,
And she discovered so late
That for her was no mate
Able to equal 'er straight
And came the day she was gone,
But she was missed for none
For as world couldn' be 'er home,
So world wouldn' have her welcome
And had no offspring,
Nor left behind a thing
Other than this song's sing,
Died in the first day o' spring
Pedro Cescon
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-ballad-of-beautiful-and-sad-winter/
