Thy tears, beget of my mistake, fall down
In mutual despair destined to drown
No gesture suffice to make apology
I the lost, beleaguered devotee
Perspective of thy pain makes me lament
The hour of thy summer duly spent
I wish thee golden aura, sent to heal
In Love pure and deep as ocean hear my appeal

When your sky collapse with thunderbolts
That strike upon thy heart and give it welts
I pray for thy redemption by Heaven's hand
Saving thee from oppressed shore and sand
The hour of thy winter transient
Seasonal the bloom of my lament
For times grand as gold fires yet to receive
In Love, thy sullied Soul's finest reprieve