Lyrics
Silent the bells of the Mosque,
In white fleece the moon is a capture,
The nightingales round the Kiosk
Are chiming together in rapture;
Thy slave doth vigil keep,
Sleep, my Sultana, sleep my Sultana,
Thy slave doth vigil keep;
Sleep my Sultana, my Sultana sleep.
Ye eyelids, like buds of white rose,
Oh! which are ye, thinking or dreaming;
Ye red lips that softly unclose,
Would you break into song in soft seeming!
Thy slave doth vigil keep,
Sleep, my Sultana, sleep my Sultana,
Thy slave doth vigil keep;
Sleep my Sultana, my Sultana sleep!