Strange whimsical winds,
Drifting across the city bylanes; as if some poet's nomadic dreams.

Whether it's gloomy nights or bright mornings,
Winds won't stop; as it can't differentiate these things.

Storming through the strange alleys,
There's none so place which stays windless.

Whether roaring blizzard or soothing breeze,
It pierce people's soul with discriminating ease.

In half agony and half hope,
I looked back and forth,
Could not get a glimpse of you in this unseen natural wrath.

Uncertain of my fate; I must depart,
To find you in my lonely heart.