I belong in the noses of princes,

And it seems that the nose of a beast is not a fit place for me.

He’s an ugly creature wandering damp corridors,

Never a witness to the warmth and light of Helios’s gentle hand.

For when I am caressed by that hand,

I am no longer a ring in the nose of the Minotaur,

But a golden beacon, brilliant as the coveted fruit of the Hespirides.

I belong in the noses of princes.

This sniffling, snorting, snuffling, grunting animal 

Cannot satisfy my hunger for a master of thrones and cities.

He is sated by the scarlet life of gallant knights and the purity that is white robed maidens.

Their slick, coppery heat pervades my senses and I am robed in red sin,

All beauty diminished through the crunch of bones and squelch of flesh.

Oh Hephaestus I pray to you for deliverance!

An irate nature is developing so is it wrong what I desire?

Melt me down and make a ring too tiny,

Too delicate for the broad girth of his finger.

If I were to ever escape,

My voice would sing higher than Hermes’ brass trumpet sound.

I would find my way to the jewels of a prince

Because, I belong in the noses of princes.