The Burdens of the Nights Fade With Your Words

This night that helplessly run On the palm of sleeplessness and boredom By your presence came to an halt An angel you are, may I say Or by me you be called, The dulcet tune of passion's flute For in the open field of your words I find mellow breeze that blows me into another world Serene, pleasant, undeniably from Elysium fields.