O music, healer of the soulmof inamoment,
I will not disturb your proud enchantment.
You breathe, you are living, you are alive.
And not a single your sound can tell a lie.
You are pure as a drop of dew scattered,
In which the whole universe is reflexed.
You are bright, like a clear sunshine slowed,
Which bursts forth from behind the dark clouds.
You are as gentle as the caress of a breeze,
Do the care hand touches your as great surprise;
You are formidable, calling to fair battle!
And with the dark forces, and with an evil dole.
O music, you are the wise healer of the soul!
I will not disturb your precious charm at all.