He, a fine enchanter, has travelled
Miraculously, to this border of the heart,
where walls are cold, where doors are keyless.
What is his spell,
that is repeatedly sung?
That gracefully roams my heart?
What is his magic,
that grants me this desperate hope,
this courageous fear, this blisful melancholy?
My day is the moon, my night is the sun.
Bewitched, bedazzled by him.
Tidak ada komentar:
Posting Komentar