When the leaves turn golden
Fire turns the soul olden
The warm nights, with gleaming bars
The stars and the woe being so far
The blazing sun is shy
Thinking that it’s with me is a lie
The rustling leaves perhaps give peace
Heart is still deceased
Thankful to the smoke, in the sky
Hiding the tattered lullaby
The blazing fire and whispers
That AMOUR has died!
The breeze touches the ear
Swish! It has told to clear the fear
Tooba.