You who have not seen the rain and you have not picked the flowers of Abra, you have herded from the wetness of the roads of your home, you who are asleep, you who are awake,
you who are drunk, you who are awake in the moments of the night and share with the stars,
know me that my grief is always on my glass, the tree in the heart of the garden and the grove of impatient roads, you did not see the year of the dull and springless , you did not regret it, you did not take our hearts,
you who are the rain. And you didnt see that you didnt pick the flowers of Abra, you herd from the wetness of the roads, you are the one who sleeps, you are the one who is awake, you are the one who is drunk, you are
the one who is awake My grief is on my glass, the tree has withered in the heart of the garden and the grove of impatient roads, you have not seen the year of the Ganges, you have not regretted it , you have not regretted our hearts,
the bitter moments of homesickness, the weeks of lifelessness, you were not there to see the dark night of waiting and all my stories, you are the moment of my moments, my moments are you, you are my imagination in my dreams , I am still on my feet,
all my stories are you, the moment of my moments is you . Im dreaming that youre still in my sleep.
