The wind blows over the hills of the clouds, The rain passes by the ponds of the dreams, You reach out your hands gathering the ripples, And I carry the maze of the love. The floral skirt unfolds like a wild field, The happiness flies like a bluebird, The road is always keen to continue, The heart always envisages a long-distance sailing. The youth is the splendid time, The time is formed with strings of past, Tying on the fingertips of you and me, And shaking the silver bell of love.