Rights

The forehead inscribed with

The moon is the woman of your high lineage

She wore a rose and wore a yellow sari.

When you see the face in the mirror,

The picture makes you smile,

I see you close to my chest in my sleep.

The blue sky comes rushing, the clouds star star

You play a great flute, the flute of the storm.

At the festival of your doom,

When will you call my friend?

I came back to your door empty handed.

You have, however, the right to pay.

The language of the mind is never spoken.

The colorful courtyard swings like a flower.

Breath of light like flowers, heart mum swells

Listen to me, the pain of the heart is the end of life.