If only the music were always so pure
and the wind whispered its melody,
If the moon were always so full,
it would still be love
that brings earth to bloom.
Heartbeats and helpmates,
fathers and sons, mothers
and lovers, daughters so fair,
the rhythm’s agape
and that’s as it should be,
I’d write it all down if only
I could. If only the music were always
so pure and the moon always so full,
All of the nations, all over the world,
would stand hand in hand.
No matter the sickness or the foibles
of man, what hate tears asunder
love rebuilds again. The pieces all scattered
will gather once more. Such is the song
on the breath of the wind.
Amore, sweet amore.