Afghan woman, deemed a princess
Born a true blue thoroughbred
Head a chiseled face of fables
Omen of no ill

Hills that spread around your chamber
Blooms that twine around your ears
Blossoms of the royalest texture
Angel of the years

Clad in sacks and scraps of linen
Living 'neath your waterwell
Praying that my youthy pauper's face
Will quench you wel

Gazelle girl striding through your palace.