I heard her mellifluous voice,
Penetrating through my innocent ears
echoing with the majesty of an Arabian triumph,
Her voice was sweet enough to shake mountains from their roots.

I saw her in a garden of my ancestors,
a garden of different colours of flowers,
Singing a hymn of love.

She cooked me a delicious rice
And fed me with a golden spoon.
And don't ask who is she.