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Sometimes there are witches on the beach |
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That fly down roads of deep stained sands |
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And caves that glowed with colored rocks |
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It was on that Autumn day |
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When we put to sea just for the day to fish |
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We made our way slowly through the tide |
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To that point of view where sky meets sea |
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The bathers of lake Balaton took off their bathing suits |
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And lept into the water to the sound of gypsy flutes |
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Sometimes there are witches on the beach |
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That fly to roads of deep stained sands |
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And caves that glowed with colored rocks |
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We found such a sheltered place |
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When we stepped ashore late in the day to kiss |
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You rode the waves, turning on the tide |
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Till the moon appeared where sky meets sea |
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The bathers of lake Balaton took off their bathing suits |
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And lept into the water to the sound of gypsy flutes |
