People say when I'm at my worst, I write my best.
I think they're telling me not to fall in love again.

Translation:
Gentle twilight in the horizon at dusk, it is you
A lamp of hope in the darkness of the earth, it is you

The furious speeding summer tempest, it is you
The call of the cuckoo, sweeter than honey, it is you

The smell of wet red soil on the first rains, it is you
The tunes and rhythm of the song of my heart, it is you

The chirping of birds at dawn on my eardrums, it is you
A festival at the heart of a mundane day, it is you

A golden dawn above snow capped Kanchenjunga, it is you
A strong current amidst the waves of the Bay of Bengal, it is you


What is this strange game, my mind has lost all consciousness
Couldn't seek you, hidden somewhere in the corner of my heart.