Let me rest,
On your roaring sheets;
The Air gets hot,
Every time your arms awake,
Such a shy torch;
Let your angel draw,
A picture of your soul,
For you can dance on fire,
Even if the floor gets cold;
The Fortune comes,
To the One who looks inside,
And then,
You will be able to shout,
May my voice be pronounced out loud,
For it can be heard in the South!
I know your heart craves,
To be scratched by a claw,
And your eyes desire to watch,
A conqueror riding in the clouds,
So let your veins write a poem,
To sharp your tongue!
For it is your spirit that evokes,
Your true rose,
Just like your lips would be kissed,
By a God who chose you a song!