A lonesome wind,
so cold, so hard,
blowing across,
the Courtyard.
With the Sun
and no more rain,
we will plant,
flowers again.
Flowers, with
colors bright,
ready for the,
first sunlight.
A lonesome wind,
so cold, so hard,
blowing across,
the Courtyard.
With the Sun
and no more rain,
we will plant,
flowers again.
Flowers, with
colors bright,
ready for the,
first sunlight.