Terrible in aspect
Tho' fair in form
Are you. A veritible Brunhilde,
You gird yourself with Thor's power,
Casting your bolts and thunders,
Upon poor mortality
Who cringe and cower before you.
You romp among the clouds
Riding the skies in female fury!
Who can stand before you?
On my toes I leap towards you
To speak soft words to you
That in the doing of it
And by
An embrace and kiss
The rage withn you will be stilled.
So will that gentle woman's softness
Which you conceal
Be fully here revealed
For all to see.
That discarding all armor
You will don amour.

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