Virginal soul

On a sunny morning I see you, girl.
Where have you been, what have you done?
Have you had bad dreams; have you been
to magic places of pleasant extremes?

On a fresh morning, awaken and fit,
your soul wanders about the sun.
Hey girl, do you miss love? Hey girl,
do your eyes hurt, does your heart cry?

At the dawn, my sweet girl, I see
your tears, the sadness of times gone by.
Pure creature, tortured by this world,
a wholesome seed of virginal ardour,

where have you been, what have you seen?
Is your heart stamped over and over again;
is your spirit crashed by the lack of deign?
Is your felicity marred by the weak, or

possibly by the narrow-minded squeak, or
perhaps by the whining empty-hearted clique?
A meek wight, a gentle soul, and yet so strong,
how many times have you your nature outworn?

On a bright morning, in the beam of light,
you, my precious, docile maid, have the power
to overcome it all; an amenable spirit, who has been
dying for so long, has become the winner after all.

On a sunny morning of a bright day, on a grey day
of a mirky realm, on dark evenings of hollow subsistence,
I see you, girl - I hear the spirit; converse with the soul.
Your journey is thorny, vexed, arduous; your path is hard.

In the shine of the day, my tormented virginal soul,
reborn from the ashes of your wretched life, I wonder -
where have you been; what have you done? Have you
preserved the innocence of your heart, my virginal soul?