The great miracle,
when you wait to bring
Only
seven thousand
What spring,
with so many blossoms
Without the murmur of the wind
Who in the spring,
in the warm evening
Without the chords of the violin
There is another,
when you wait to bring
Not only seven thousand
Until the moon waits for us
At the bell of a clock
The fire of love would burn easily
Without the song of the birds And the roses,
through the song, someday
They will bloom and then we will ask
Is there not a song,
one of my own
Which
often brings with it The great joy of life?
Is there not a song,
one of my own
Which in
the whole world Only takes people?
Is there not a song,
one of my own
Which often brings with it The great joy of life?
Is there not a song,
one of my own
Which in the whole world
Only takes people?
And in the soul they will carry
Music