The Song of the First Desire
On the green morning,
I wished to be a heart.
A heart.
And in the late evening,
I wished to be a nightingale.
A nightingale.
(O soul,
be red like an orange.
O soul,
be red like love.)
On the lively morning,
I wished to be myself.
A heart.
And when evening falls,
I wished to be my voice.
A nightingale.
O soul,
be red like an orange.
O soul,
be red like love!
