الكلمات الأصلية
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It was just as well
A June day's such a long
The young grass maddening smell
Kite flies high alone
Above a low green swell
And time is thick as pitch
One could hear from the pond
A faint creak of oars
It's calling us to reach
The better other shores
It's calling us to run
Two bottles on the bench
My beer wormed by the sun
There's not a single cloud
A kite flies and I would
A pebble in my boot
Too lazy to shake out
While kite was flying high
What did we talk about?
The summer had gone by
And so had I
