Must be a little piece of sun,
that's burning in her happy heart,
and shining in her amber eyes,
through new mongolian morning's mist.

She lights the lonesome land of grass,
yet country of pure gold and hope.
With ev'ry single ray of sun
she's painting smiles on nomad's face.

She pierces through the desert storm,
that's blinding all the people's eyes.
She turns the wall of dust and sand
into a fading haze of silk.

I know she melts december snow,
beneath mongolian ev'ning skies,
her dream'll be taking mine at night
to moonlit hills till break of dawn.