Do not nestle your face
on my foothills.
Let me lead you
up the incline
where the cherries are
and the peach grove is
where the moist pine rustles
and the succulent plants grow.
And there to the tune of the crickets
and the dance of the temple bells
let us be pinioned
on the peak
and feel a life grow inside.
Do not nestle your face
on my foothills.
Let me lead you
up the incline.
