In the hot sands of the isolated deserts,
His company would feel like the cold rain,
Dropping against the turmoil of her heart,
The heart beats are lonely,
Most of the time they seem to be waiting for his synchrony,
The breath seems incomplete,
Like the breezes blowing lifelessly,
When two halves unite suddenly,
The whole world becomes complete.
He was the lone tree burning on the desert,
A heraldic tree that the passing storm had left afire,
Why is the one who has dwelled in her always upset,
What could be his compulsion,
Even the nights are bland now,
May his colours fill up her dreams.
May his colours fill up her dreams.