A glance at you,
Like the voice of a nightingale at the dusk.
Smile touches the lips and starts breathing
As the silvery dreams get sunken in one's arms
And goes from the lips to the heart
As a soft finger touches a daisy flower,
And as spring finds a silent road.
And the thunderstorm becomes the kiss of breeze...
A glance at you, my dear
Like a calm dawn.
My heart wanders alone,
Glittering all stones,
Playing with seashells on the beaches
Running with deer in the forests
And flying beside the clouds.
Why does it touch me, my dear
Like the voice of a nightingale at the dusk
That showers me bearing all your fragrance
Oh my dear...
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 12:07 PM UTC
A glance at you,
Like the voice of a nightingale at the dusk.
Smile touches the lips and starts breathing
As the silvery dreams get sunken in one's arms
And goes from the lips to the heart
As a soft finger touches a daisy flower,
And as spring finds a silent road.
And the thunderstorm becomes the kiss of breeze...
A glance at you, my dear
Like a calm dawn.
My heart wanders alone,
Glittering all stones,
Playing with seashells on the beaches
Running with deer in the forests
And flying beside the clouds.
Why does it touch me, my dear
Like the voice of a nightingale at the dusk
That showers me bearing all your fragrance
Oh my dear...
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