Down on the seashore dressed of charming veils
the Pretty Lady moves with gently pace
the hand strokes the water and the heart crosses the sea
while the golden tresses softly swing to the breeze.
Wondering the clouds, wondering the wind
with the Fairy Fantasy she can fly and dance
talking to the sea-goats, talking to the day
time goes by and not one shows the way.
Who knows about the knight that keeps her heart.
Who knows about the love she lives inside.
Down on the ground in the land beyond the sea
there is a young man turned to the sky
a red vermilion flower has furrowed his breast
and with the hand is holding a little peace of grass.
Wondering the clouds, wondering the wind
with the Sad Lady Death he can fly away.
Crying with the sun, crying with the trees
time goes by and there’s no other way.
His blood can run away as a stream to the sea
carried by the current to the Pretty Lady.