Thousand seconds to figure out what happened
Twelve seasons of monsoons passed by,
And still they remain in drought
Trying to figure out through the windows of glass.
O desires of heart, what have you created?
Fifty one memories did make me bleed,
Seventy three more to rip my wounds
What is it that I am trying to figure out through the panes of mist,
The monsoon or the drought?
The famine or the loneliness of the days?
When impossibility turns it’s head down
Translating the unscripted words
What is it that remains?
O the garden of time
Why are you pacing so hard?
Smoke is starting to set fire on ice
Through the bliss of paradise, Pigeons walk
When unbearable lightning of the sky touches, I start to realise, what did I lose,
Was it the time or just a single moment of love?
Destiny designing it’s way out of my heart
The waves of sea turns still
Why are you being so stubborn?
Flow over the last part of drought
The desires will start realizing the arrivals of monsoon.
Eighty seven touches on the toughest part
Feathers seem like stones.
The excitement of the months keep arousing
The timely tales of rain that casts the clock today.
Why aren’t you mad O heart?
Why don’t you find your own door…
Pavements of diamonds near the fountains, sparkle
While the sailing smoke speak on its way.