First the horns, so gentle they,

Teasing as they come to play.

Soft caresses they tend my ear,

Fading this world

but leaving me here.

I tremble first as high above

An oboe plays, seeking love.

Then, hanging high and gliding down

A clarinet adds its teasing sound.

Horns below, clarinets above,

So close, I swear they're making love.

Their passion's sweet, beauty glows,

I feel their warmth, my body shows.

I melt inside and breathe desire,

They meet again and fan my fire.

On Earth, no beauty can compare,

While bound by here, I long for there.

I'm hanging on as beauty dies,

Joy beams through my tearing eyes.