Iranian Gol-e-sangam

Publié le par нар хиртэлт

I am a rock-flower, a lichen
what shall I say of my longing heart
if you don’t shine on my like sunshine
I’m cold and I’m pale
I’m every bit sigh, every bit hurt

Like a storm full of dust
I’m the drunk whirlwind
Which twirls in the desert
Twirls around you

If you don’t fall on my like rain
If you don’t seek me out
Without you I will perish in a couple of days
Your heart of rock will break for me

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