My love is the seventh sense; Before which there is no meaning. My love is birth and death at once; Would not die after dreaming.
My love is the light that dances on waves; That spins the oceans, and foams its enclaves. My love is the rushing of flocks on wing; The voice in the heart of the forest that sings.
My love is the seventh sense; Before which there is no meaning. My love is the sky and whine of ocean; She will not die after dreaming.
My love is the silence of a windless day; Spring snows on top of the bare mountain. She is the babble from the brooks; And the air that steeps in secret fountains.