The black veil that falls at night,
Stage of ghosts with the decline of the light,
How many times in its shelters
grew the intimate embrace of two lovers?
My voice is hoarse, yet I feel no shame.
I will raise my voice in a song for the flame
Red and yellow that gathers the tribe
these nights when the drummers take pride.
There's a smile here that I've seen there.
There are eyes there that I've seen here.
My song is black and red yellow and blond.
Ain't they the colors of my world?
Last update: 11 May 2000