The valley, the grove - will wear a secret.
The sun already hugs the hills.
The countryside is stirred -
Who is it, going down to the vineyards?
"Where will you go, to where will
you turn, all by yourself?
Where does your path descend?
Tell me, Na'ama."
"I have a little secret,
I'll tell myself alone.
I'll reveal it to the winds."
The grape pickers
A wind sails through the vineyards.
Birds fly north.
Na'ama sings secretly.