twas a’ long onceupon, the time in an a’go.
‘innet of a heart the kingdom olden.....inside that nation oldened shadows meets’ the village, have longed gone in a lands then past.
valors meets maid of a Marion, ruffled are her feathers ‘hair... twa a’nne the maiden’s locks orange, innit goldtint’th, blonde manner as poison......nectar of our sunlight, which turns the monochrome glow a spiral.
a saddened Marion, whom was to be a’gone, lost at a’bay, a forgotten shadowmnesià of their ghast the prisonshold, which met as stern of tint, cold air.
breezed through, but a fading sound. a shape of blizzard, a voice ‘innet of snowflake... darkmidst a night of departure, twine like a dustspecel, glooming in light of moon.
Marion, a beam moonlight herself... twas now, finalé illuminated ray, reflection of arch compatriot surface, her warmth, unforgettable bliss, shattered in a’past.....past away, spirited. her be, in such a terra, terror of our mindst imaginative.
Marion, the one a’bay, a commonwealth province, silhouetted twiss soulle’th . . .
Marion be’gott a penumbra inflicitt’e of shore.
maiden bourg, the bourge, whistle-stop grotesque...
„le, villageé des ombres, de’dans... interne, à l'intérieur, perdue est Marion.“
for I have mourn, the ghastly ghost of beloveds gone, fore the mourn of we thine the lost.
forgotten twine the memory, a’nne the dark, that chill of cold. flake the snow, the child of...
Marion, spirited thee away, into a village of shadows . . .