A Raga Called Nina
She
Does not know her beauty
She thinks her brown, bony
Has no glory
If she could dance naked
Under palm trees
And see her image
In a river
She would know, she would know
But there are no palm trees
In the street
And dishwater gives back no images
Gives back no images
Black is the color
Of my true love's hair
His face so soft and wondrous
The purest eyes
And the strongest hands
I love the ground on where he stands
I love the ground on where he stands
Black is the color
Of my true love's hair
Of my true love's hair
I love my lover
And well, he knows
I love the ground on where he goes
I love the ground on where he goes
I love the ground on where he goes
I love the ground on where he goes
Black is the color
Of my true love's hair
Of my true love's hair
Still, I hope
That the time will come
When he and I will be as one
He and I will be as one
He and I will be as one
He and I will be as one
He and I will be as one
Black is the color
Of my true love's hair
Of my true love's hair
Of my true love's hair
Of my true love's hair
Of my true love's hair