I am the last flower in this desert
, in the shrine of the sun, the medicine is dying,
my body, whether it is only my lips or the thirst in my heart, as if it is
a wound, a wound, a wound, a fever, I am a
relic of the blue days, for my purity, the
heritage of the blood in the veins of my soil, the veins of my soil, the heritage of the
garden, whose fate was to be destroyed
, the share of the bird was to feather, it was to feather,
you who have the same color as your eyes
, your name is a new name, a poem,
I am waiting, maybe you will come
, the time of reappearance. Little by little, you have to come, I wait, maybe you will
come,
the time of the reappearance little by little, you must come
, you with you, the damp smell of rain
, dont let me die in this desert, dont let me die in this desert,
I wait, maybe you will come
, the time of the reappearance you must come, little by little, I have to come
, the memory of the blue days, for my purity, the
legacy of your blood in my veins, the vein of my soil, the legacy of the
garden whose fate was to be destroyed,
the share of the bird was to feather, you
whose eyes were the color of the same color. Well,
your name is a new name, a bad poem, I wait,
maybe you will come
, the time of the reappearance will have to come,
I will wait, maybe you will come
, the time of the reappearance will have to come, little by little.
