He initiates me ,This old cloud in the cold, And unlike usual ,In the rain there is a smell of distant lands He turned longing into reeds and sedges , On our banks, nostalgia grew flutes and (a little bit of crying)
He initiates me ,This old cloud in the cold, And unlike usual ,In the rain there is a smell of distant lands He turned longing into reeds and sedges , On our banks, nostalgia grew flutes and (a little bit of crying)
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