Flocks Of Birds (Pullinangaal)

Flying up,

Raising the head,

Waving with empty hands,

To ensure,

Tearing up the air..

I'm moving forward,

Distant half a moon,

With a dry tongue, in open air,

Where to spring to play with air.

With tears and memories of,

Love shared by mankind,

With distant dreams,

Freezing every old sweet memories, one by one.

Now,

I started searching for water with, the thirst of fondness

of my old mankind.

Sometimes falling feathers, like my unmatched dreams,

But still, pushing the air

"I'm flying high ...

Raising the head, in search of that same fondness on mankind,

Welcome me with love, am your flocks of Birds (Pullinangaal)