My left side burned out, it's not burning anymore
The city is as dark as pitch from the love that I'm fond of
Everyone disappeared, neither the name nor an address
Now, I have a poor yearning on my hands which remained from you
However I had the greens on my cool boughs
Climate was always spring, sometimes it was rainy too
All these things were just like months, years ago
Wish you would come and I would tell you
It was like that, it was like this...
Which hell are you making hell now?
Which arid lands are you planting roses?
Please come back whoever with you and wherever you are
You are longed so much in this place which you left before