Cold wind blows, lifting the fine red sands.
The moon is waning on the evening sky,
I leave my body and my soul ascends.
I went high, until I can see no more.
Space, above the clouds, above the world,
Where angels roam and dreams soar!
My soul needs a touch, needs an embrace.
Where art thou this blessed soul!
Slowly I descend, and back to my world.
The air still is cool, sands hurt my eyes now.
I turn to go inside the shelter,
Where I will lay and dream once more.
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