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The arms of twilight are dandling my soul |
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and in her eyes |
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I see the sweetness of a bright immortal-graced maiden |
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who relieves the grieves of my heart. |
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Wind is whispering your name throught the clouds in the sky. |
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I will always remember your eyes veiled by tears |
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while the night prelude casted a spell on our glances |
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The eyes of the dying sun are looking at me |
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in this romantic immensity |
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an I can feel this melancholy |
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ervading deep inside me. |
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Twilight is whispering your name to the clouds in the sky. |
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I will never forget your heart beating over mine |
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and your passion heating my bosom. ... |
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And when butterflies fly on whitered flowers |
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and birds perch on dry brances a tear will glide to your |
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and I will hold it in my hand like a pearl in its shell. |
