I wait for the return of the wind that passed by me,
Yet deep down the heart weeps upon realizing the certainty that it won't.
The wind, with its delicate touch and graceful wings, 
Will never come back into my solitude.
The wind that felt like the soft caress of someone dear;
The wind that whispered sweet nothings in my ear;
The wind that sang its melodies for me while it-
Searched for shade among the trees in the orchard;
The same wind has left me and again into solitude, I plunge.
The same solitude that embraces as well as kills me-little by little.