I was first enamoured with Eithne Ni Bhraonain, aka Enya, upon hearing "Orinoco Flow." This piece graces her second opus, "Watermark," whose cover is adorned by a daringly demure photo of the chanteuse amongst burgeoning rouge flowers. In this album Enya's voice redefines what is quintessentially ultrafeminine. Through her poetic sound paintings--all music brushed by her own pen--a plaintive songbird wafts through insurmountable gales. The euphonious chanting that complements its flight possesses a mystical and cavernous vibrancy. She articulates her thoughts with the elegance of etched crystal. Her vocabulary is sometimes evocative of a strange tongue we are compelled to fathom, because of its charmingly Gaelic old worldliness. Enya is also a classically trained pianist and, like a concerto made for a daydream, exhibits her fanciful use of keyboards throughout this dulcet disc. Each of her moods is showcased with hauntingly deep percussion, like a myriad heartbeats in awesome anticipation. The most timeless gems on this CD are: the title track, "Watermark," which conjures up a pensive moment, like sun rays teasing a limpid pond; "Storms In Africa" (two parts), which sweeps across the plains of adventurous musing; and "On Your Shore," which ushers in wellsprings of loss and hope: "Strange how my heart beats/To find myself upon your shore./Strange how I still feel/My loss of comfort gone before." Enya becomes the New Age Nightingale on this CD--her mellifluous and immaculate largess to the annals of popular music. I therefore entreat you to acquire this amethyst for your case of jewels and allow her seductive fairy dust to tantalize you, because in "Watermark" by Enya, "the Eternal Feminine steps off her heavenly ship to caress our ears."