When does the rain stop?
Will it stop when I won’t have to come back home to an empty couch?
Or will it stop when I won’t have to search you within sadness,
gliding through the endless skies of all that could have beens.

When does the rain stop?
Will it stop when at night I wouldn’t wake up yearning for your voice?
Or will it stop when I won’t have to say that I will wait for you in the shadows,
secretly weaving imaginary love stories with fateful ends.

When does the rain stop?
Will it stop when I cease to exist as a creature of the light?
Or will it stop when I won’t have to trade an ounce of my heart for peace,
and a pound of my soul dedicated to an eternity of misery.

I know now when the rain will stop.
When the waves of the ocean will touch the tip of the mountains,
When the cradle that carries the weight of my love will rock,
When you would come to me as an island to rescue my shipwrecked life,
When the world will take away all the colours that life has ever offered me
and only you will glow as an incandescent blue sun.