Blacksmith's daughter.

The goddess.

The tailor's son finally gets Nadia to love him. Her love is pure and she loves him more than he ever loved her, more than anyone has ever loved him. (Love is a gift, an invaluable gift that ought to be treasured.)


My love, the daughter of a damned soul, so I believe
Pure her soul is, skin radiant; all my touch needed
Her purity resembles not Artemis' purity
Neither does her beauty resemble Venus'

My love, flowing with flaws, but my love perfect to me is
Nadia, she that found me, lost I was before she came
Nadia, she sleeps silently beside me, her head on my beating heart
I adore her, her imperfections and impurities.

My hand she holds, within her I want to be lost
A free soul with her I am, my heart prisoner of her charms
Hair like wool, eyes with depths even I know not
That into me look always, that seek to understand.

Nadia, daughter of a blacksmith, my heart she has
Heaven and earth for her I would move and my soul for her
The goddess I hold every night, who more than willingly would die for me
Her kind of love I had known not before she came to me.

My goddess walks with grace, but strength of a soldier she possesses
The goddess who whispers and the wind obeys
Nadia, perfectly imperfect, her footsteps are never erased
I love to adore her, she whose features drove me mad, my goddess.