To each his Dulcinea
That he alone can name
To each a secret hiding place
Where he can find the haunting face
To light his secret flame

For with his Dulcinea
Beside him so to stand
A man can do quite anything
Outfly the bird upon the wing

Hold moonlight in his hand
Yet if you build your life on dreams
It's prudent to recall

A man with moonlight in his hand
Has nothing there at all

There is no Dulcinea
She's made of flame and air
And yet how lovely life would seem
If every man could weave a dream
To keep him from despair

To each his Dulcinea
Though she's naught but flame and air