Perhaps she lives
In our dreams alone,
She whose face is
Illumined
By the rays
Of the sun,
While the dansette plays
Some romantic melody,
O how I love
The one
Who lives in my perfect love.
It’s so strange,
The morning comes,
And there are tears in my eyes;
My dream has disappeared,
Lost in the wind of time;
She who looked at me
With such tenderness,
While the dansette played
Some romantic melody,
O how I love the one
Who lives in my perfect love.
