Under cloudless nights, The wind calls for our fright To be laid against the glade That has no pleasure to show its shape. We show tears as elegantly As we do our fears. You sway your hips In dancing curves Under moon that reveals the porcelain of you, With weaving gleams to the ebony trails That run from your head to your neck. Most beautiful woman, With simplicity to each of your eyes, With red to each of your lips, How can we begin our voyage Without travelling upon rivers of our own making? I want to send to you A curtain to cover your wounds, A bandage to cover your eyes, As you soothe me with your sighs. We must be laid against the other, For our aches must be smothered. Life is a band of triumph When love beats its own drum, Like the heart against the chest, Like the weaving lines upon the papers In a box full of memories.