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Native stars in the foreign sky.
Foreign ice in the native eyes.
Guards are staying on the road ply.
This image has a bitter spice.
I look back and don’t see my ship.
Just lead waves covered by foam.
I must do the second step in deep.
The first I did when I left my home.
Why I left my home,
why I left my home?
Shining star in the native lake.
I feel her warm breath and hand.
Slowly foll colored petal flakes.
We believed it will never end.
Her breath and hand
Paradise not end.
Native stars in the foreign sky.
Foreign ice in the native voice.
I had lost the ancient skill to fly!
My soul is sick it’s not my choice
In my heart I listen voice:
it’s not my choice!
I look back and don’t see my track.
Dust of the desert had hid it.
I must go along the awry crack.
I have for it time little bit.
So little bit
have time for it.