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In dreams I have seen the approach of this skein

These birds who sail on even keels

The falcons have woken, they’re squawking their token

The hillside resounds from their peals

Down anchor, down anchor, hearts here know no rancour

As our deeds shall reveal

We meet in peace and greet the trustees

Of the glorious Crown of Castile

Come ashore, dear sons of Don Carlos

My brother, my father, my son

Too seldom we welcome such guests in our realm, come!

Your every will shall be done

Though sultan his servant, I’ll strive for my kinship

I swear on my book and my crown

Your freight may be late, your fate may be to wait

Grant me and mine a little while

May this delay cause no fray nor dismay

Pray, tarry as kings on mine isle

First tend to repairs, then share your rare wares

As I shall go harvest the clouds

Blessed be our union of crowns in communion

Which the falcons promulgate aloud

Chorus

Chorus

Push off shore, dear sons of Don Carlos

Ye travellers who dauntlessly roam

Under the moon’s crescent, winds wond’rous, incessant

May steady your wings, bear you home

Carry this message of love and of friendship

I swear on my book and my crown