(no subject)
The smell of sweet, cut grass and a mild rain... Wet dirt. The sky has cried all its tears, has exiled the golden sun to the horizon, and the glittering, distant stars appear in the sky one by one, like watchful fireflies.
The storm is gone and the skies are clear.
Di'ye sila't ekui'en;
diya sila do'nal ekui'en.
Tado mas'dias no'mi nem.
Trien jur'as oszh to'bi.
C'ri'leto ue'ks...
En mas'tat ai no das'li't
du gan'mai's teps'tu'blu...
The storm is gone and the skies are clear.
Di'ye sila't ekui'en;
diya sila do'nal ekui'en.
Tado mas'dias no'mi nem.
Trien jur'as oszh to'bi.
C'ri'leto ue'ks...
En mas'tat ai no das'li't
du gan'mai's teps'tu'blu...