Fiery red carpets in the dawn of day,
Light as feathers and the rising air,
Hang high up in the luxurious sky.
Daughters of the sun clad in
Baring silky white calves,
Slender ankles, and rose covered feet,
Walk so lightly among the heated coals,
Weaving their way with blazing torches,
Dancing through the nocturnal clouds,
Clouds so beautiful as they glow in red,
Clouds so effervescent as they shimmer,
Clouds as they appear through poetic eyes,
As the glowing runs along the spine
And climbs into the heart so enthralled.
An ode to that glorious sun,
The weaver of those red carpets,
That luxurious beauty
That hangs up in the morning sky,
That ceiling floor walked upon
By the daughters of the sun.