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I am lonesome,

Want to release all my tears,

In the arms of a loving woman,

Who will know all that I am going through,

And who will be wholesome,

In responding, like a loving woman.

I want to sleep and sleep,

Till I have erased everything,

I have suffered all these two decades,

And even more.

Let the thunder roar,

And the lightning threaten,

I don’t care.

I want to sleep and wake up,

Without anything hurting me,

Or causing me to pine for love,

Or feel lonesome.

I don't want to feel the grief,

That tormented Norma Jean*,

Or Diana Spencer*,

Nor think about the thief*,

Who destroyed Madhujee*,

For his career.

I don't want to think of pain,

Nor relate with the aches,

Of the lovers who, like me,

Who sought nothing but love...

Keats*, Meer*, Emily* and Shakir*,

I want to sleep peacefully,

In the arms of a woman,

Who would know how to make me forget,

That I am lonesome.

Somebody whose love can make me,

Forget Daphne,

And the torment that still grips,

This ravaged heart and mind of mine.

As it rains outside the four walls,

Which enclose me for eight hours,

I wish that even my parched being,

Is given a new meaning,

As I recline and sleep off,

In the arms of a loving woman...

She's out there somewhere,

And just like me even she,

Is very lonesome.