My sweet flower,
You who are born every day
From the lips of the sun,
Are only, always you
The one who flies with me.
Another world, make it fall
My breath turns into wind
Of the skies
A pang in my heart
Tell me, when?
There are over a hundred choirs
In the land of the Sardinians
And you are the print of God,
Queen of memories.
It’s now the time, my brother,
Oh, my golden jewel
And never turn your back on God
Because the treasure is you.
You look like a cloud,
Like the Mount Limbara snow-filled.
Another world, make it fall
My breath turns into wind
Of the skies
A pang in my heart
Now I feel it.
There are over a hundred choirs
In the land of the Sardinians
And you are the print of God,
Queen of memories.
It’s now the time, my brother,
Oh, my golden jewel
And never turn your back on God
Because the treasure is you.
… in the land of the Sardinians
… queen of memories
It’s now the time, my brother,
Oh, my golden jewel
And never turn your back on God
Because the treasure is you.