Sparadise

"Isle Of Inisfree"

I've met some folks who say that I'm a dreamer,

And I've no doubt there's truth in what they say,

But sure a body's bound to be a dreamer,

When all the things he loves are far away.

And precious things are dreams unto an exile.

They take him o'er the land across the sea --

Especially when it happens he's an exile,

From that dear lovely Isle of Inisfree.


And when the moonlight peeps across the rooftops,

Of this great city, wondrous though it be,

I scarcely feel its wonder or its laughter...

I'm once again back home in Inisfree.


I wander o'er green hills through dreamy valleys,

And find a peace no other land would know.

I hear the birds make music fit for angels,

And watch the rivers laughing as they flow.

And then into a humble shack I wander --

My dear old home -- and tenderly behold,

The folks I love around the turf fire, gathered.

On bended knees, their rosary is told.


But dreams don't last --

Though dreams are not forgotten --

And soon I'm back to stern reality.

But though they pave the footways here with gold dust,

I still would choose the Isle of Inisfree.








Celtic Woman （ケルティック・ウーマン）


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