You’re a maiden behind the lattice window,

I’m a drifting cloud of the four horizons.

Following the wind, roaming far and wide,

While you rest in velvet and silk.

You’ll always be a maiden—

A gentle soul of dreamy melancholy.

Your heart is like mountain snow,

Pure and bright in its quiet glow.

Who made you such a lovely maiden

To fill my life with sorrow?

Who placed you by the window’s edge

To entangle a poet’s wandering heart?

Who made you such a lovely maiden

That spring nights brim with tears,

That love rises to my doorstep,

And dreams spill across my pillow?

You’ll always be a maiden—

A gentle soul of dreamy melancholy.

Your heart is like mountain snow,

Pure and bright in its quiet glow.