Perhaps she lives

In our dreams alone,

She whose face is

Illumined

By the rays

Of the sun,

While the dansette plays

Some romantic melody,

O how I love

The one

Who lives in my perfect love.

It’s so strange,

The morning comes,

And there are tears in my eyes;

My dream has disappeared,

Lost in the wind of time;

She who looked at me

With such tenderness,

While the dansette played

Some romantic melody,

O how I love the one

Who lives in my perfect love.