[أرب جمـال]

the wind tells a song and the old trees rustle
he sings about you and me - because he knows us very well.
the wind tells a song - of the day when we met
but that is a long time ago - and recall is so difficult.

the rain sings - as if the sky is crying.
Each drop seems to both of us as a piece of history.

the wind tells a song and paints a picture from the old days,
he will sing with your voice – im the only one – who is listening and that makes sad and silent.

from the singing of the sunshine - by the time we dreamed
from the yearning, which drove me - and the hope is still there.




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