• A sprite, a nymph,
    call me what you will,
    for no words can truly,
    name one such as me.

    The forests my kingdom,
    the trees my sons,
    the flowers my daughters,
    and you ask who am I?

    Who am I,
    who runs and plays,
    free as the summer wind,
    which carresses one gently?

    Who am I,
    who flies and swims,
    and who is welcomed,
    by every creature one and all.

    Who am I,
    who quivers in anger,
    and cries blood,
    over the doings of humans?

    Who am I,
    who keeps the world,
    in its cycle,
    ever turning?

    Who am I,
    who is one with the sun,
    in maternity,
    and in love?

    I am,
    the maiden,
    the matron,
    and the crone.