From groves of spice,
O’er fields of rice,
Athwart the lotus - stream,
I bring for you,
A glint with dew
A little lovely dream.
Sweet, shut your eyes,
The wild fire - flies
Dance through the fairy neem;
From the poppy - bole
For you I stole
A little lovely dream.
Dear eyes, good - night,
In golden light
The stars around you gleam;
On you I press
With soft caress
A little lovely dream.
Akshaya & DARLINGS