

Dusk of drifting snow swirls around you,
Ethereal white mist fades the color of your hair.
Borrow a soft cloud as the backdrop,
To record this purest color.
With those violet, crystal-clear pupils,
You sense this blurred world,
Then quietly hide in the shadows,
Afraid of the scorching burn of scattered light.
You were born as snow-white pollen fallen to the world
So why would you dishonor the nobility bestowed upon you by the Creator?
Flattering this deep-toned world of light,
Becoming the humblest beggar of fate.