I may fly away with the wasps of the hill,
When my story and days are all through,
Or sit with the moon and the crystal stars,
So I can keep watch over you.
I may drift away with the waves of the sea,
To the west, returning no more,
And ask the good giver of my life,
To cleanse the mistakes on my shore.
We came with the blessing of mother’s womb,
And start the journey once more,
But we stay in the love of our children’s hearts,
Long after we pass through the door.
May all of your dreams be free and unchained?
Not fruitless, and never in vain,
If you ever have drought in your orchard of life,
Then I’ll be your gentle rain.
And talking of dreams, that’s what you are,
A cluster of stars always gleaming,
And before I go on my journey ahead,
I know… you were my starry dreaming.
May the weaver of dreams, lend a story to me,
Like the one where I was morning Dew,
And I watched, and I waited, on Blackberry thorn,
For my chance to be me… to be you.