When the sun-scorched rock, long-thirsting in drought,
Is kissed by rain, a strange, earthy fragrance
Usually rises to greet the air—
But today, I do not sense it.
Wasps hum softly,
Lingering upon the tender areca blooms.
And I, with a voice adrift,
Sing of my life—
Unknowing where its beginning lies,
Where its middle rests,
Or how its end will come.
Once, I was the only dream in your secret world.
I was the sun that warmed your skies.
But today, that sun has drowned beneath the sea.
Sorrows gather like tides,
And I am tangled helplessly—
Yesterday, today, tomorrow—
All bound in grief.
When the sun-scorched rock, long-thirsting in drought,
Is kissed by rain, a strange, earthy fragrance
Usually rises to greet the air—
But today, I do not sense it.
Still, in my chest,
The warmth of our embrace lingers.
You were the only solace within my heart.
Through the long hours,
I drift into dreams,
Humming the songs of love once ours.
When the sun-scorched rock, long-thirsting in drought,
Is kissed by rain, a strange, earthy fragrance
Usually rises to greet the air—
But today, I do not sense it.
Wasps hum softly,
Lingering upon the tender areca blooms.
And I, with a wandering voice,
Sing of my life—
Unknowing where it began,
Where it flows,
Or where it will end.
