A keresés eredménye

A Quiet Breeze Blows in the Valley

A quiet breeze blows in the valley,
The sun smiles from behind the hill,
But my face has nobody to smile for,
Sorrow forced it to cry.
 
Blow, little breeze, for you are not blowing in vain,
My heart is weighed by a heavy yoke,
Heavy yoke, and also great sadness,
Such vernal breezes blow in heaven.
 
What is spring for, when everything blooms,
There is no joy for me in this world,
Only the dark grave will suit me,
In the dark grave, nothing hurts anymore.
 
Only the dark grave will suit me,
In the dark grave, nothing hurts anymore.