"To run to light through the wet grass
Asking sky to open the gate" (Tam Greenhill)

The whole translation made by AI:

Wind, clothe me in the weight of snowy white,
How long must I drink and dull in routine’s bite?
Tossing silver hopes that never fade from sight,
I’ll roam the world to weep and sing my plight.

Wipe my tracks from ashes warm and near,
Fly with me, come share my bread, my cheer,
Lock the road that leads me home, my fear,
Guide me through strange lands so wild and clear.

Midnight, stitch a cloak from heaven’s blackened thread,
I’ll shield my wounds from prying souls who tread,
And on market day, my bird of sorrow bred,
I’ll sell to a wandering witch of dread.

Seventh star, keep safe my gifted art,
Let my words not freeze like shards in heart,
Who’s foe, who’s kin, who fades at dusk apart,
Who gets poison, who the living water’s start?

Flame, wrap my form in crimson satin’s gleam,
So none can match the dance I weave supreme,
That at the final judgment’s solemn beam,
I stride like dawn’s own maiden, pure and dream.

Weave a spell, take wing as birds take flight,
Trade summers for song-beads shining bright,
Run to light through wet grass with might,
Beg the sky to fling its gates in sight.

All images in my "Girls" AIrt project: https://yury-nesterenko.dreamwidth.org/tag/%D0%B8%D0%B8%D1%81%D0%BA%D1%83%D1%81%D1%81%D1%82%D0%B2%D0%BE.+%D0%B4%D0%B5%D0%B2%D1%83%D1%88%D0%BA%D0%B8