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Idioma
A chorus of footsteps, chatter in bright halls;
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
1..And are gone to praise God and his Priest and King, Who make up a heaven of our misery."
سفر طویل سہی حاصل سفر یہ ہے
Whose woods these are I think I know.
The Thing Is
With their feet in the earth
With their feet in the earth
The respect that I once lost
ہم ملیں گے کہیں
THE ORIGIN OF THE RICEBIRDS