The wind blows,
it is so cold outside,
wooden houses
only creak,
the dead leaves
cover the paths
and I'm still
covered by black clouds.
The wind blows,
and nothing can confort me
without you my life
will end and you won't even notice,
my soul is getting weaker,
I wish you could see me,
the sight of me is sad,
I'm full of sadness.
The wind makes cracks
in the wooden houses,
and if you don't come back
I will be buried soon.
That's the way the wooden house were,
in-between the cracks
the wind sung a melody,
and then cement came,
now there are only block buildings,
only iron and bricks.
The wind blows,
and nothing can confort me
without you my life
will end and you won't even notice,
my soul is getting weaker,
I wish you could see me,
the sight of me is sad,
I'm full of sadness.
The wooden houses
look like if they're falling down,
they are complaining, just like me,
since the day you're gone.
The wind makes cracks
in the wooden houses,
and if you don't come back
I will be buried soon.