Blame it on the full moon
Like the first sparrow of the Spring
coolness is born among leaves
our lips burn and desire gleams above the desert’s sand
dark and full of promises;
only our souls lit like old candles.
Everything is a perl of beauty
trembling on your blond eyelashes;
The moon of the desert is like a white magnet tonight
there are plenty of falling stars for wishes
but I am thinking only of you.
The night is covered by your fragrance and the desert scents
And behind the scents a light melody
which gently touches the naked skin
and, as pure color, your sweet face, Ulrike,
deviates towards the moon.
