In this vale of tears, mirth, ordeal and naïve dreams…
Often, I find myself gazing up that great realm.
That place…that place where valor is deeply honored;
Where every clever conqueror is crowned as lord;
Where farmers reap what have been painstakingly sown.
Where Poets divulge papyrus scrolls…wisdom honed.

I, a blacksmith, will sharpen my black, glinting sword…
Then climb Mt. Olympus; chant with Apollo’s chords…

…The snaking path leading up there is very steep.
Yet my zealous heart ne’er will dare seek to weep.
For yea, I know, that the sweet kiss of the zephyr,
Sent by God with bliss, finally, will lead me…there!