White lilies drift down the Morava
Read my palm,
there you will find all my hopes,
while white lilies drift down the Morava.
There the water hides memories,
and the river simply flows on.
Look into my palm,
you will see those white lilies,
sailing like a message to a love.
Within it is a woman who wept in the rain,
who hoped while the sun gilded the river
and grieved while the blossoms departed.
Look once more,
perhaps a new morning will bring a handful of hope.
Perhaps you will return,
when the lilies finally bear my message to you.
As the lilies drift toward you,
the Morava waits for you to return to me.
