Look at, a lone pine on the field, me unwittingly I mentioned that poem, from childhood.
Pine trees to the sky I want to grow,
The sky with branches want to sweep,
In the course of the year
Clear was the weather.
Look at, a lone pine on the field, me unwittingly I mentioned that poem, from childhood.
Pine trees to the sky I want to grow,
The sky with branches want to sweep,
In the course of the year
Clear was the weather.
