I think I still hear,
hidden under palm trees,
her voice soft and sound
like a song of wood pigeons.
Oh, enchanting night,
divine rapture,
oh, delightful memory,
mad euphoria, sweet dream!
In the clear starlight,
I think I still see her,
half drawing her long veil
in the tepid night breeze.
Oh, enchanting night,
divine rapture,
oh, delightful memory,
mad euphoria, sweet dream!
Delightful memory!