Love is a many-splendored thing,

It's the April rose

that only grows in the early spring,

Love is nature's way of giving

a reason to be living,

The golden crown that

makes a man a king.

Once on a high and windy hill,

In the morning mist two lovers

kissed and the world stood still,

Then our fingers touched

my silent heart and taught it how to sing,

Yes, true love's a many-splendored thing.