There Is My Beloved, Sitting Under the Sun
There is my beloved, sitting under the Sun,
Tenderly is how the wind, embraces her waist,
Bitter because he cannot carry her away.
There is my beloved, sitting under the Sun,
The sea is calling her, swiftly striking the shore,
she will not go with him, just hearing his hearsay.
There is my beloved, sitting under the Sun,
She keeps her face behind a green hardcover book
avoiding the caressing of an intrepid sunray.
There is my beloved, sitting under the Sun,
If the moon had a face, wouldn’t she also be shy
hiding on her bosom the smile I admire today?
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