Why?
[Enter OMAR with his zither.]
OMAR [singing]
Al Shaldomir, Al Shaldomir,
Birds sing thy praises night and day;
The nightingale in every wood,
Blackbirds in fields profound with may;
Birds sing of thee by every way.
Al Shaldomir, Al Shaldomir,
My heart is ringing with thee still
Though far away, O fairy fields,
My soul flies low by every hill
And misses not one daffodil.
Al Shaldomir, Al Shaldomir,
O mother of my roving dreams
Blue is the night above thy spires
And blue by myriads of streams
Paradise through thy gateway gleams.
MIRALDA
Why do you not wish to speak?
JOHN
You desire me to speak?