O, my Beloved, Lord of the Worlds,
Your light of life graces our existence,
Maker of All, Giver of Hope, the Almighty,

The golden hour of the day is here,

Out there, in the bones of the cold stones,
Built by working men long gone,
Their fingerprints still linger in history,

We shall remember their cemented art,

In this palace of memories comes a princess,
From far distant sands of humanity’s colours,
She dances her passion in this serene arena,

In the solitude of the light a bird flutters her wings.