bei.pass
The trembling leaves are my longing passion.
But you pass, you pass carelessly, Leave,
Behind you, the tree that's shedding.
Dear, the shedding are not petals at all,
But my heart, my withered heart, crying!
But you pass, you pass carelessly, Leave,
Behind you, the tree that's shedding.
Dear, the shedding are not petals at all,
But my heart, my withered heart, crying!
