We'll leave the village before the dawn,
ride horses in the heat and dust,
keep going, smiling at the sky,
through the sunrise until dusk.
We'll picnic on some berries
and a rabbit from a snare.
You'll bathe a while in a shaded brook
and then I'll comb your hair.
At twilight through the browning hills,
behind Ma Faa late at night;
she'll catch moonlight in her cooking pot
and dance to its captive light
We'll steal our horses blankets
to lay upon the ground
whisper secrets in the starlight
and we never will be found.
They'll find our steeds in the morning
and our bed in a rumpled pile
they'll remember we were happy
and the mystery of our smiles.