My Beloved is the mountains,
And lonely wooded valleys,
Strange islands,
And resounding rivers,
The whistling of love-stirring breezes,
The tranquil night
At the time of rising dawn,
Silent music,
Sounding solitude,
The supper that refreshes and deepens love.
Surely the holy one is not deaf.
He hears the delicate bells that ring
On the feet of an insect as it walks.
He hears the delicate bells that ring
On the feet of an insect as it walks.