A Pilgrimage to Her Temple
Rick
A mountain of misfortunes stands affirm at sight;
Where,droplets of blood drench the grassy fields of night.
At the aiguille of the mighty arm aroused straight from Hell ;
Her Temple awaits for ages for a soul to dwell.

The Goddess of love, an incarnation of the moist of the eyes ;
Her royal brows and pale body cry her yearning without lies.
Her body's apt sculpture even fails the aura of Hera;
Her extremities never seem to rust for she rules love's own era.

But the legends say,
The Pilgrimage to such a pious place of love;
Isn't for the people of norm.
The people who share lustrous charm cannot see the dove ;
Even when they do,they perish by her raging storm.
Only one virtuous;a fair soul above the age;
The one who has been deceived and died a thousand times ;
Knows the path to her parish ;
The other ones, treading to her, all shall...