The forehead inscribed with
The moon is the woman of your high lineage
She wore a rose and wore a yellow sari.
When you see the face in the mirror,
The picture makes you smile,
I see you close to my chest in my sleep.
The blue sky comes rushing, the clouds star star
You play a great flute, the flute of the storm.
At the festival of your doom,
When will you call my friend?
I came back to your door empty handed.
You have, however, the right to pay.
The language of the mind is never spoken.
The colorful courtyard swings like a flower.
Breath of light like flowers, heart mum swells
Listen to me, the pain of the heart is the end of life.