In the dazzling sun
The delicate scent of a jasmine
Bewilders bumblebee.

I looked out in the humid
Mysterious night
On the moon which had scattered
Its fading light.

The stars were twingling
In the night´s quiet fog,
Beaming.
In my brittle far away soul
I see it.

The silvery stars
Are coming to greet me
The black gown of the night
Is steaming.

To close my eyes
No I do not dare
I will lose that moment
Of my soul´s deep stare.

The moon is up, a mystery begins
And a nightingale spreads out his wings.
The ashen light
From the moon so bright
And darkened shadows
In the forest they gather.
The silhouettes are seen
But yet so concealed.
Sounds, so vague
Though they are not the same
As in a day.
The illuminated squares
Of the magic forest, shares
The wild beauty, yet so invisible.
You feel the dream of paradise;
The fragrance of the unfurled blossoms
And the sight of dispersed light,
Becoming unbeliavebly visible.
...why! It's just an illusion of perfection,
Showing up its starlight reflection.

One day walking on an edge of a seaside
The edge where the water can't reach your feet
Preceiving on a horizon a hillside
Where it is easy to let yourself go and leap.

Everyday I walk the same path again
Spotting the hillside and thinking of freedom
I once dream of saying to myself Hooray!
And drag myself out of that boredom

I want to tear my heart out
And hold it in my hands for a second
I dream of no doubt
Because I have been too long infected
And I am sick of the mystery
Hidden in the crooks of my torn heart

One day I dreamt
That I had torn my heart out
When I got closer to that scent
I really saw I had torn my hear out.

I was simply holding it
Holding in my hands
I was amazed of that
Because I can never put it back.

Blowing away from the distance
Gathering everything on its way
The living should stop and bliss that
For a second before death of the day.

If you feel the touch of the wind
Gently and tenderly moving your hair
It is like to stumble, to fly blind
To cry and pray and fiercely tear.

The touch of the wind can be godly
The touch of the wind can be rough
But it is never meant to be deadly
It is just meaningful for the life is tough.