Lo, the forgotten angel hath cast her eyes upon me.
Those deep hazel eyes hath pierced mine heart,
         and from me bled all despair.
Accompanied by the warmth of a smile;
Greeted with a loving embrace.
         The joyful soul knows no bounds.
But what have I for such divinity?
What may a mere peasant offer an angel?
         How may rags compare to silk?
I pray to unwary gods that love suffice.
That this angel of hope care not for materials.
         That my soul be enough.
So now, to this angel I present not myself,
nor do I submit that which I do not have.
         Rather, I give her my mind and my soul.