Sing forth a melody thou sweetest of nightingales
For tonight thy master wishes to entertain and play;
And only thy hymn has rights unspoken to make claim,
Of enlightening the tales one may meet upon the way.

Oh to thee, poor nightingale, how sorrow greets your day,
Trapped and bound forever, where thou art always forced to sing?
Bring forth in abundance innocently stolen smiles,
For he this one in ignorance who clipped thy golden wing.

Heed wisdom from within my sweetest, most beloved child,
Thou who would sing as if thee could be in the darkest night.
So as to hear a verse deigned to compliment thy own
Splendid it is to lift thee in the purest of delight.

Dance my beauty beneath an expanse of unnamed stars,
Where thou shall feel sweet dewdrops fall upon thy tender flesh,
While melodies entwine themselves abound forever,
Creating truest love into a finely woven mesh.