Mira is like the color of dusk,
Life without rhythm is no life,
Today she is leaving,
The dark clouds would burst.

Mira.

Mira is like my drawing book,
The pages are clad with steams of life,
She would be leaving, like a crying
dream.
I would pretend to sing a song.

Mira.

Mira is my room of mirrors and signs,
Life without meaning is no life,
I'm born a weaver, My chance of birth-
My mind is like her heart, made of sticks.

Mira.