Yellow clouds crowd you like a torrential rain
Yet you feel like a stubborn heart
Never letting your God worship you in psychadelic light
A shaffron moon shines on your forehead
As if you you are the half sky expanding in infinity
Your forehead holds the other half at a distance
O, the sistter of the far away land,
Will you ever walk along the aisles of eternity?
No siren is ringing in the valley of tranquility
Darkness has retreated back slowly into the light
All the flowers have assembled at your behest
Auburn hunger has rekindled the hearth
Nobody will go empty-handed in this pretty season
No children will ever be left motherless as you pray
Only the void world look down on your path of salvation
You will be the high queen in a wonderland.
O, the pretty sister, hug the children of mankind
Raise them on your half sky
They will bear the other half of your legacy
And they will burn the towering inferno.
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