I wonder how the leaves have learned
the language of the wind,
the language that is even mysterious to trees...!
Must be the same way;
that a cuckoo sings,
the spring blossoms,
the dawn kisses a dew drop,
when your sublime language of silence speaks to me.
The language which tied me to you naked,
yet unknown to me… just to me!
Now the twilight has arrived,
No more... no more, we gonna share
a word, a glance, a droplet of pain.
Still, why don’t you entrust me
a dictionary of your language?
the language of silence
that you speak, just not to me...!
No...no…not for me to learn at this sunset,
But to frame and hang in my living room...
the language that the wind speaks, you speak
the language that the entire universe understands,
except me, just me....!!!