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The purple evening dies, giving way to gloomy night. Tis a moorland wind that blows from the deep glen where it rose. Her burnished, bronze face, a coquettish grin, a sultry look. She shivers, where wild blast dost thou roam ? She herself is the wanderer so far from home. Lost in the vacant airher frantic curses fall - golden tears pour into the widening cracks and cobblestones rise.
A close-up, eye-level shot of a beautiful young woman, with brown hair and golden skin, facing the camera and smiling, against a cloudy purple sky, with an empty road in front of her. The woman has wet, dark brown hair that cascades over her bare shoulders. She has a happy, open-mouthed smile, with some small flecks of gold on her teeth. Her face, neck, and right shoulder are covered in gold dust and water droplets, making her skin appear to shimmer. Her shoulders and arms are wet, as if she has just emerged from water, with a sleeveless dark top covering her upper body. She has dark, thick eyebrows and large, dark eyes with delicate eyeliner. The background is a vast, open landscape with a cloudy purple sky at dusk, stretching over a dark green and brown field on either side of the woman. A narrow paved path, made of grey-blue cobblestones, stretches out before her, leading into the distance.
