Wild honey smells of freedom The dust - of sunlight The mouth of a young girl, like a violet But gold - smells of nothing.

There is a sacred, secret line in loving which attraction and even passion cannot cross.

Wild honey smells of freedom The dust - of sunlight The mouth of a young girl, like a violet But gold - smells of nothing.

If you were music I would listen to you ceaselessly And my low spirits would brighten up.

I have long had this premonition of a bright day and a deserted house

Your voice is wild and simple. You are untranslatable Into any one tongue.

We learned not to meet anymore, We don't raise our eyes to one another, But we ourselves won't guarantee What could happen to us in an hour.