No head may be higher than the king's
Who kneels down before all his concubines
Prostrate with folded hands and a sly glance up
Lay on the ground with me, my queen
For I cannot bear your face so far above me
Ever-present as a distant god
Become human so we may share souls
And hold my eyes with yours, face to face
Here on this cold marble floor
I would do anything to keep you here with me
How can I rise to your height when I am made of clay
And your shining face cures my form
Let me tie a string to your leg
Let me plant a garden in your meadow
Let me shield you from the world, for you are my sacred idol
No queen may be higher than the king
As we play the parts of mother, sister, lover
All-powerful with bowed heads
