Birch Trees
The night is white,
The moon is high,
The birch trees lean
Against the sky.
The cruel winds
Have blown away
Each little leaf
Of silver gray.
O lonely trees
As white as wool . . .
That moonlight makes
The moon is high,
The birch trees lean
Against the sky.
The cruel winds
Have blown away
Each little leaf
Of silver gray.
O lonely trees
As white as wool . . .
That moonlight makes
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.