O Apollo, Why must you confuse me for a nymph? You chase after me, Lust in your eyes, But you turn into a narcissus flower when I cut my hair. I'm only a reflection in the pond that you chase after. You're pride. You're vanity. Even Artemis was better at the hunt and knew better than to let love in. What must I do so you don't drown? Must I disappear? Must I show you that it's your reflection? Stop the chase. I'll never cave and break the glass. O Apollo, See me not as a nymph But as a nymph and satyr.