There is a land far, far away

where the music is never too hollowed to play.

The adventurous roam and the mischievous follow

down the road unto tomorrow,

in this land of very little sorrow.

The evening breeze whispers the name of this place

as a place of many mysteries

and just as many intricacies.

The land of Pourvalel.

Now once there was a Pourvali maiden

whose name was Hayden.

An adventurous and spirited girl, was she

with eyes as blue as the ocean's depths

and hair, a fiery copper.

Then with a voice of the nightingale

She sang to me her tale.

"It began", said she "on a whispering night

with a luminous silvery moon

and a festival of most magical affairs.

A shimmering song of pure fairy tales."

While the fire-eater's flames with colorfully bright lanterns

illuminated streets of wonders,

she saw he, with golden-brown hair.

He slyly smirked and offered a welcoming hand

when the band struck up a dancing tune.

Thus Hayden's dance began.

Silken slippers and heavy black boots

glided across the well beaten path.

Two faces shone with the pale silvery moon

while, in the streets, observers swooned.

Then the birdsongs announced the dawn

and Hayden's new love was all gone.

For he with the golden-brown hair

had vanished when the night was done.

And when the early birds of dawn

singing their songs of laughter and fun were done.

Hayden sang unto the sun

of he with golden-brown hair

and her sorrow when he had gone.

Now Hayden became an untamed spirit,

traveling, dancing, and singing.

Never settled in one place for long.

And it was upon the eve following her dance

with he of golden-brown hair,

that she set out to find the sea.

Hayden traveled across the land of Pourvalel

hand in hand with song and sand.

She never grew tired, always sang,

always wandered, always played.

Twas upon the day she met the borderline of the sea

she bore the child of he with golden-brown hair

under the shade and comfort of a palm tree.