Behind your window the town is falling asleep. My path is crowned with stars in a pre- dawn sky... Your room is flooded with spring morning sunlight My steps are hidden by December snowstorm With an old white feather, drowned in raindrops I write you letters on October leaves. The winds will retell them to you in dreams and spring will weave into your hair the song of MayTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
