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



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

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