Setting on horizons,

We won’t be sun,

When we rise back again,

Then, shall we be called Sun.

Withered like this one day,

Nor shall we be called roses,

Whenever we will spread fragrance,

Then, shall we be called roses.

Blowing like this every moment,

Nor shall we be called wind,

When we will give life,

Then, shall we be called wind.

One day the sun will rise too,

Rose will also bloom that day,

And winds will fill life with fragrance,

That day will come soon.

Until then,

Go with the winds,

Taking fragrance up to skies,

Become clouds there,

And then rain as life on earth.