All those high mountains return no echo

The late evening song soaks our weary legs

A passage of beauty calls us inside

With tall curtains waving in ocean breeze

Not a single soul present in the room

Splendor of dim moonlight in serene grace

Shady landscape floats in glittering mist

Slender limbs of trees clothe in olive green

Languor of the body quiver of heart

Desire to sit down pause a little there

I touch her soul hips in form of a lyre

We begin our journey in slow motion

Planting kisses- then waltz to the climax

Looking for dreams in the house of love.