Where is the one who touches the string
of the heart that strikes the instrument?
On a fine road,
day and night
Step by step,
the feeling is in your hand
On a fine road,
day and night
Step by step,
the feeling is in your hand
If he would be a Zavuran,
he would be admired by his people
If he would be a Zavuran,
he would be admired by his people
The colors of the spring
are fluttering, fluttering
The colors of the spring are fluttering,
fluttering
If he would be a Zavuran,
he would be admired by his people
If he would be a Zavuran,
he would be admired by his people
If he would be a Zavuran,
he would be admired by his people
The wind that stirs,
the love that smells
The songs that are left from him