Floating on air, holding your hands, I fly in the blue shades of reflecting skies in your eyes, I float into the passing sands like a forgotten moment, Hear the sounds that your eye-lids make while blinking, While I rise up in a callous mood, soaring high. Climbing and gliding between the clouds they cross golden wheat fields waving below perhaps the soaring sound of a Mozart clarinet concerto can reach such height as the wings of an eagle in a flight