You, in whose horizon the gallant sun dies at dusk;
You, in whose vicious arms tenderly wraps the men lamenting at your banks;
You, in whose waters refracts the colors of light;
You Old Glory, fading slowly at the end of time.
Visit me in my dreams and show me why men had had died for your love;
Visit me in my dreams, that I may see past the madness of your mind;
Visit me in my dreams, that I may decipher your screams that I hear before I sleep;
Visit me, come to me, bring me back to the golden days of your youth!