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Tell her that she is a dream of mine, she is the moonlight shining in my heart ... tell her that the colour in the wheat fields, the impulse in the butterflies flying around ... tell her that the nimble youth of the waterfalls, the freshness of the mountains, the honour ... tell her that stretching of the swings and the tune of the flying scarves ... tell her that the fire from the music of the mill, wavering youth, playful wedding ... tell her that the thirst of the kohl of the bride, the hot and cold sweetness of the first rain ... when all of these colourful things were collected, then God made you....

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