After the fierce midsummer all ablaze
Has burned itself to ashes, and expires
In the intensity of its fires,
There come the mellow, mild, St. Martin days
Crowned with the calm of peace, but sad with haze.
So after Love has led us, till he tires
Of his throes, and torments, and desires,
Comes large-eyed Friendship: with a restful gaze.
He beckons us to follow, and across
Cool verdant vales we wander free from care.
Is it a touch of frost lies in the air?
Why are we haunted by a sense of loss?
We do not wish the pain back, or the heat;
And yet, and yet, these days are incomplete.
Tick tock...tick tock...
Life is counting down on your internal clock.
जिस क्षण तुम मुझे स्वयं से अलग करो,
Preheat the oven of love
With plenty of secrets and hugs.
Mix in g
दूर धरा से चाँद को निहारती
होकर
Give me your loving,
give me your heart,
give me everything we won't be apart.
