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My nightingale,

with a red, red rose,

flied over the desert, the mountain, and the vale,

came to perch on my bole.

Whatever she sang,

filled in my heart of the whole.

My dear nightingale,

please sing to my soul.

I will be the stars,

shining at your musicale.

I will also be the gale,

waking up all the sail,

escort you to take a long, long travel.

I will even be the moon,

gently lightening your earth,

from the North to the South Pole.

My dear nightingale,

without you, my life turns pale.

But you flied away, away from my view.

My dear nightingale,

I miss you, though

far from ten thousand-mile.

As long as a soulful smile,

that I would do whatever you like,

is just for you.