Having a dance with the devil,
Enchanting octaves recurring.
Ballet reigned on the floor,
In response to a sonorous sonata.
She got carried away,
To a mountain of forgetfulness.
Or perhaps ephemeral pleasure,
Seem too pleasant to forego.
Alas!
There came the fall of a heroine:
Unequal yoke her bane.
The self-laden burden,
Had meandered her steps into
the woods.
Groping in the dark,
Darkness sorted her woolen linen.
As dark as tar it became,
Bearing semblance with the seed
of corruption.
The beauty of a thousand years,
Had become a beast in minutes.
The earnest desire of kings,
Is now despised by paupers.
The chaste virgin so adored,
Is now a woman of easy virtue.
A corrupted seed,
A dream shattered.
Like a fragile chinaware,
Into a thousand little pieces.
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