The city was full of unhappy sweethearts.

Stoned ceramic tears, on melancholy faces.

The chilling wind blows inside my heart.

You passed by my side in a rush.

Beloved, I'm yearning for your early winter.

All the yellow thoughts will cut down from the tree of pain and will conceal randomly by a bitter blind wind.

The city was full of unhappy sweethearts.

That girl with the muted face and painted skin rose In my heart.

I belong to her first harvest and her final sunset.