| Wait, there is a return in their difficult exile
|
| Wait, remember us in your narrow days
|
| Like wired cranes, like double doves
|
| In the shade of a cedar tree
|
| Greeting the spring and saying two words
|
| I used to spend carefree days and nights in your hand
|
| We used to love roses with their thorns
|
| We smelled until our hands bled
|
| Would a rose be without thorns ah we wouldn't
|
| Wait wait will we ever give up
|
| We used to love roses with their thorns
|
| We smelled until our hands bled
|
| Would a rose be without thorns ah we wouldn't
|
| Wait wait will we ever give up
|
| This painful longing is like an advice
|
| One day it will expire
|
| Darkness will come to light
|
| You see the celebration of the holiday that day
|
| Wait on a warm June morning
|
| Wait, warm your left side in your bed
|
| Like wired cranes, like double doves
|
| In the shade of a cedar tree
|
| Greeting the spring and saying two words
|
| I used to spend carefree days and nights in your hand
|
| We used to love roses with their thorns
|
| We smelled until our hands bled
|
| Would a rose be without thorns ah we wouldn't
|
| Wait wait will we ever give up
|
| We used to love roses with their thorns
|
| We smelled until our hands bled
|
| Would a rose be without thorns ah we wouldn't
|
| Wait wait will we ever give up
|
| This painful longing is like an advice
|
| One day it will expire
|
| Darkness will come to light
|
| You see the celebration of the holiday that day
|
| Darkness will come to light
|
| You see the celebration of the holiday that day |