High above the mountainous rooftop of our dreams, you sung the songs blow to the forest trees.
I start the incredible journey of my soul; it is a remarkable sad story to celebrate the natures of the setting you free.
There is the smoke in the sky, so that there is the sun hidden by the blue clouds that I cannot see.
While the beauty of the singing forest is undeniable, the gathering streams must follow the call from the beat of the foothills.
At every step, I find the inspiration from the underground rivers in the beat of my heart's hills.
There is the smoke in my eyes, so that there is the golden fish hidden by the green rivers that I was stopped by your heart's grills.
With the mountain of forests far behind, the dream's streams gather into a venerable force delivering my love's tears through the valley.
In the distance, the weave like the silver threads through the story where our watching each other eyes sincerely.
With the coming of the mainstreams is our passing love, where all the streams waters joined with the blue sea.
The ocean sends up towering pillars of moisture at the peaks of my love story's tears, when you leave.