In my poem it is a name
And in front of me there is longing
About him, about someone who touched me with his heart
Until I set in a rainbow of love
A name that becomes a mystery
In the formation of the soul is equivalent to taste
And is he interpreting my dreams?
Until the morning comes he remains meaningless
I love him in my poem
My gentle composite heart language
Only by singing sentences
I express my sense of belonging
Let him be a mystery, but he still be heart
Until then, until dusk change morning
I'll keep going here
Continue to love her, even if she is a mystery