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Gracefully she moves
as if inspring dance
Gleaming like the moon,
below we gaze, entranced
Her silhouette cascades
like a waterfall
Softly, she is shade
when there's no shade at all
In the desert cruel,
under scorching glare,
she comes like a mirage:
oasis from despair
Banishing the foes
of subltety and grace:
like the wind her hair,
as the moon her face
How I long to bathe
in her clearest stream!
How I long to walk
and wander through her dreams!
How I long to see,
admiring her sweet form:
moving, as the sea,
thrilling, as a storm
If she were made of wood,
of marble or of stone,
a statue she would be
of grace surpassed by none,
I'd place her midst the trees,
the flowers and the vines,
and longingly I'd gaze
on this Goddess of mine.
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