The moon that kisses our gaze,
The vineyards, whose light rains,
Upon the mangos and garden petals,
Whose waves gifts seashells,
Caresses our body with love,
And our exotic hips,
That have the honey of dreams,

A longing crescent moon,
Hymns, within the warm rivers,
Of their golden and brunnette hair,
As they lounge,
within sweet loves caress,
Like a cabaret,

They sway with the crescents,
Like luminous flowers,
And their love kisses,
with its ethereal petals,
Within their souls,

Lovely ladies exotic and ethereal,
Swaying sweet within loves caress,
As though they were midnight candles,

They are the fine wine,
Of the moon and nightingales,
The shimmering honey,
Of the waves,
The lavendar of the crescent hip,

Their gaze like lighthouses,
Upon evening shores,
The moon loves their sweet souls,
Their svelte and voluptuous curves,

Sweet ballerina and ethereal gypsy,
Enchanted and luminous,
Like their veranda garden,
And the crescents,
The iris and the honey waves
Reynaldo Casison