The rosy hues become smoother after years,
And are still blossoming with juvenile airs.

Symphonies of the King of Pop are still played,
To this day on, now it even finely fares.

Spotting that girl in the streets at times of night,
The young fellow, a gift with his hand he shares.

The friends were made with a lot of love and glee,
What are the outcomes of those pretty affairs.

These lines adorned with rhymes are my merchandise,
Presented nicely at gleaming city squares.

He, the singer, tells a tale about a girl;
Mysterious airs and mysterious hairs.

Mâhî, you have narrated this many times,
Everyone knows perhaps your likes and your cares.