My dove, my beautiful one,
Arise, arise!
The night-dew lies
Upon my lips and eyes.

The odorous winds are weaving
A music of sighs:
Arise, arise,
My dove, my beautiful one!

I wait by the cedar tree,
My sister, my love,
White breast of the dove,
My breast shall be your bed.

The pale dew lies
Like a veil on my head.
My fair one, my fair dove,
Arise, arise!

maybe you won't find me beautiful
because of my hair
or my lips
or the color of my skin
maybe you won't love
the way i walk or the way i dress
but i hope you fall in love with
the words in my soul
and the fire in my heart
and the myriad of stars in my eyes
and the wonder and grace that
are tangled in my hair
and the bravery that is
locked up in my bones
and the unfading beauty
of my spirit
and if you think that's
beautiful,
that is enough for me.

I don't know what I'm doing anymore
but I know I'm doing it all wrong

Be not sad because all men
Prefer a lying clamour before you:
Sweetheart, be at peace again -- -
Can they dishonour you?

They are sadder than all tears;
Their lives ascend as a continual sigh.
Proudly answer to their tears:
As they deny, deny.