For seven years, she wove the stinging thorns.
For seven years, he pleaded for a word.
He might have waited 'till she answered, "Yes,"
but he did not and he took her to his bed.
She did not dislike the King, but he might have waited
until her self-appointed task had been completed.

For seven years, she wove the stinging thorns.
For seven years, they pleaded for a sound.
She did not speak. They read into her silence
a witch's spells and sentenced her to drown.
Sill weaving, weaving still the stinging thorns,
she did not stop until they'd led her to the shore.

For seven years, she wove the stinging thorns.
For seven yeras, they'd waited on the water,
her seven brothers, enchanted in the form
of swans, looked up to see the crowd that brought her.
She tossed the woven cloaks into the air,
and then the King's men caught her hands to bind her.

For seven years, she wove the stinging thorns.
She wove her brothers cloaks to change their form
from swans with strong feathered wings
to seven men with strong young limbs.
Flying, they caught the cloaks and slipped them on.
Feathers and wings transformed to hands and arms

except for one, who returns in the form of a man
retaining one wing in place of an arm and a hand.

For seven years, she wove the stinging thorns.
For seven years, she had maintained her silence.
The King and the King's men -- in their impatience
and in fear of the woman's words that remained unspoken --
had led her to the lake shore before her task could be completed.
Out of fourteen sleeves on seven cloaks, one arm remained unwoven.

Now, one by one, the brothers advance to kiss her hand,
thanking their fair sister for all her heroic hard work
and personal sacrifice resulting in forced marriage -- rape, really --
and a death sentence nearly escaped
in the face of astounding, transformative enchantment.

The last brother, though, the one with the wing,
just can't find it in himself to be grateful and bow.
After all, he's the one condemned to live life as a freak.
What gentlewoman will want him now,
except a desperate one or one with a taste for -- shall we say -- the unusual?
What gentlewoman will want him now?
After all, this is his real life and not some fairy tale.




Photo source: evghoul.bloground.ru/2007/02/