On wings of song

On wings of song,

my love, I'll carry you away

to the fields of the Ganges

Where I know the most beautiful place.

There lies a red-flowering garden,

in the serene moonlight,

the lotus-flowers await

Their beloved sister.

The violets giggle and cherish,

and look up at the stars,

The roses tell each other secretly

Their fragant fairy-tales.

The gentle, bright gazelles,

pass and listen;

and in the distance murmurs

The waves of the holy stream.

There we will lay down,

under the palm-tree,

and drink of love and peacefulnes

And dream our blessed dream.