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.