Shall I compare thee to Sernuk’s horn? But thou art far sharper, more dangerous. A brain like blades from Wit’s own mind was born, A face so fair it pulls me now to lust. Dear Tamala, elusive as an eel, You spring so deftly from my slip’pry clutch. Your voice like arrows pierce my heart of steel, My soul like bowstrings quiver at your touch. A Sernuk hunter must his pride protect, And Tam’la wooer must the same, tenfold. How quickly does the alchemist reject Her loving hunter with her heart so cold. But wild, evasive as the witch may be, My heart still sounds its hunting horn for thee.