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They say that love is a fragile thing
A limits ? When a magic ring made of gold
They say that love is a bird in flight,
A gleam of light, a star too bright to behold,

Tell me, tell me, tell me oh child of the moon
It is as they say, must love slip away too soon

Tell me, Rima, where are the meadows of June
Speaking with her eyes, softly she replies

"I know a place, where green mansions are
As near or far, as any star up above
And in this land of eternal spring
Where hummingbirds can learn to sing
Green groves, the mansions of love"

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