Leannan Sidhe
A red-haired gypsy dances through my mind,
A fleeting, spangled, salamander joy.
A spell upon my soul to her does bind,
To this my wandering woman, brash and coy.
Her hot skin bronzed by years in summer sun
Seems now as if some otherworldly site
Where earth forms not the very stuff of one
Were called her home and sparking of her light.
Her hair unfurls around her like a snake.
It wraps around the column of her spine
And floats above her head, a thing awake,
Of this fired-dancing fairy woman, mine.
She is some elemental Efrit djinn
Or else a wildfire catching hold,
Which spreads where blowing Zephyr throws his grin,
And flaunts her there, her going ever bold.
Her light throws shadows on the wall
Like ghosts in some Platonic cave.
Dim likenesses the others, all;
None satisfy that which I crave.
She turns the stuff of matter into art,
Transforms its ores to an ascendant state,
But yet you know she always will depart,
And leave you burned, still praying her to wait.
Such joy that brings such pain, my leannan sidhe!
Her breath of fire fills my lungs with heat,
Excites and scorches, spins me round, and she,
Unknowing, runs away on too fleet feet.
Her each move kindles fire in my breast!
I, captive to her eyes, am never free!
Her smile, the glowing iron, stabs my chest!
The sweetness of her laughter murders me.
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