燃微
You flee my dream come the morning. Your scent - berries tart, lilac sweet,
To dream of raven locks entwisted, stormy. Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep,
The wolf I will follow into the storm. To find your heart, its passion displaced,
By ire ever growing, hardening into stone. Amidst the cold to hold you in a heated embrace。
Marcin Przybyłowicz/Emma Hiddleston《The Wolven Storm》: