For your beauty is foreign and intoxicating,
Like ripened grapes freshly crushed beneath my feet,
May I look upon your smile as a blossoming and
Noble vine
As my eyes implore you
From where do you come, o king?

For you have searched for your heart’s desire,
Within the arms of a lowly shepherd boy;
For I belong to him, and he is mine.
I am dark, but lovely and with loyalty I
Choose my love
Over any riches or fame

From where do you come?