Dreams are made of the sand hot,
Who clings melodically under my feet.
From the sea breeze, the sun and the yearning
For the one with whom we hold our hands.
And also from the rebellious waters,
Which are broken in the rocks
And their noise so far outnumbered,
That they hear them even beyond the stars.
Dreams are made of my short dress,
Which I called "My summer white".
When I run along the shore I wether,
A night later I quietly take it off.
I dress in the moonlight,
In a starburst of thoughts of gold.
But every night I go to bed alone ...
Luckily, dreams are free ...
Goodbye and Kisses ...
