Lift the soul of my song to a spire,
Let it ride on the wings of your lyre;
Let each note of your melody bring,
Lilt and grace to my poetry's fling.
A song, long been awaiting for you,
Aches to live and not fade in the blue;
It's a rapsody wove in fine words,
Come, breathe ecstacys into the chords.
My song slept in my memory then,
Now, the symphony wakened again;
My song throbs with the strains of your heart,
When you strum your sweet music to start.
Then, your music and my song remain,
As you sing its undying refrain;
And will tenderly live in our dreams,
Among angels' most beautiful hymns.
by: Maria Luisa Tejero Torrento
Let it ride on the wings of your lyre;
Let each note of your melody bring,
Lilt and grace to my poetry's fling.
A song, long been awaiting for you,
Aches to live and not fade in the blue;
It's a rapsody wove in fine words,
Come, breathe ecstacys into the chords.
My song slept in my memory then,
Now, the symphony wakened again;
My song throbs with the strains of your heart,
When you strum your sweet music to start.
Then, your music and my song remain,
As you sing its undying refrain;
And will tenderly live in our dreams,
Among angels' most beautiful hymns.
by: Maria Luisa Tejero Torrento