A gloomy wind in a desolate field
Chasing a lonely walking figure
Dressed in black directing its steps
To a cemetery there among many tombstones
It will stop in front of one
And will stay there like a monument

The grievous one sees the beloved face
Covered with ground , the beloved body
In the grave , under the tombstone
He is inhaling the air, trying to catch
The beloved fragrance
But he feels nothing
But the reek of putridness
The grievous one…

It will be raining, it will be snowing
The grievous one will stay there
Until his sadness overflows
And goes into the earth to his beloved one
Then he will go home, get into a coffin
And will be waiting for her