Still a child, I made a paper boat.
On a burnt afternoon,
In a little stream, I set it afloat.
Carrying all my dreams, all my passion.
Stream merged in a river, then an ocean.
Oh fisherman! Have you seen my paper boat?
Oh my friend! Is it still afloat?
My brown paper boat under the red sky,
In search of a laughter or a cry,
Is sailing to the tune of waves.
Some emotions is all it craves.
Oh fisherman, have you seen my boat?
Comfort me saying it is still afloat?
My creation will make me gloat,
If you tell me that my boat,
Full of my dreams, my passion,
Is still adrift, in a red shiny ocean,
Oh fisherman… Oh fisherman!
Where is my brown paper boat?
My amateurish effort in picturing the feeling of loneliness.