اصل بول
ENترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
Black old tires are the servants of the road
They took you far away again and made the dust float
Birds are trying to cheer me up in despair
While the golden wheats swaying like your hair
When summer ends
Winds get you back
Seasons cannot keep up with time
In the shade I pray for clouds to veil the sun
