3

There goes my Beloved, my sweet Lord,
The anklets ringing on His Feet.
I hear the music of His Flute
Vibrating through the horizons.
If ever my cowherd boy should cast a glance
Behind Him, still He only goes forward.
Let my eyes follow the track
My Beloved treads.
In the twilight hour of the day,
With a sweet and serene smile,
Leading the herds of varied light,
My cowherd boy goes.