Angel face woman,
lips like two cherries,
dark eyes like two almonds
of melancholy gaze plunged deep
laconic sadness that you keep quiet inside.
Everything is locked in your chest,
compressed in a sigh,
trapped like the boredom
of the one who wanders without destiny.
Sing a requiem to your darkness
that the words fall on these,
like rain on the treetops
and as also, on the earth:
both yearn for these waters.
Then let your song reach the desert world
as if it were the morning dew,
opening the stage for the morning sun.