❝ Not a mere imagination when the soil turns dry, 
Like a sulking child, they won't hear my cry.
Not when the curtains of the sun stretches forth,
Down the shore I met you and sure that's worth.
Just as the dry soil reforms in gradual,
This heart ponders to mend, now that's factual.
The sound of a ringing bell,
Purity of cheer, I could tell.
The sea breeze scent,
Our eyes speaks we're meant.
I freeze,
I giggle, 
I cry in joy,
I sing songs,
And I fell,
My heart could tell...

When I hear the sound of a roaring water,
Your beautiful name I could completely utter. ❞