In whichever distant land, you let your feet fall,
Dearest, just look at the sky and give me a call,
Your voice floats like the breeze of spring over brook and dale,
And merges just as seamlessly into the air I inhale.
By the brilliance of the sun, you become distant too soon,
I await the night, to see your face in the moon,
The fragrance of flowers amidst the rustle of leaves,
Subdues the silent tempest in which my heart grieves.
People say that yours is a journey of no return,
Notwithstanding, my heart from your direction will never turn,
A lamp of light burns the oil that feeds it, to flame,
Just as I await your verdict, the result of this endless game.
Across the woods, into the horizon afar I gaze,
Tears rolling down, as the sky turns a purple haze,
I close my eyes longing for the morning anew,
A morning that will rejoin me and you.