The Book
The flower you picked for me that day
Is lying in the book we read,
Its petals pale and fallen away;
The flower is dead, that day is dead,
And our love too has paled and died
And even the memory of it sleeps:
Only the book still keeps
The bloom of life and pride.
Is lying in the book we read,
Its petals pale and fallen away;
The flower is dead, that day is dead,
And our love too has paled and died
And even the memory of it sleeps:
Only the book still keeps
The bloom of life and pride.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.