This fever will not subside
until I hold your hand
Woman there is a secret
dangerous alluring darkness
that imprisons me in your eyes
Maiden of the River
Lead me to your grassland
I will rest on your plateau
feel the plesure of your fever
a waterfalls rush cannot match this fever
sing me your songs
Echoes of the forest
my desire races the Atlantic
a fierce thunderstorm in July
yet wailing I am an infant in your arms
fresh as the yam tendril
I wrestle the trees
potent with mountain hardness
the morning cannot equal your beauty
my woman.