has died Oh my
With a dry spring in your kiss goodbye;
Oh as I was next to you I can not have you
further.
Pain has many faces
That you are removing the quiet.
Somebody
chest hurts me and hurts my soul. There
refesque
rain my garden where
dried orange and fig trees
and I weigh my sorrows. Oh
land
suffered,
land of my Pecao! Here
bore me I'll be here enterrao
mare. ***
not take away the word
not steal my kisses
If not, you'll marry another,
And then I want no complaints.
0 comments:
Post a Comment