Although this land is not my own,
I will remember its inland sea and the waters that are so cold the sand as white as old bones, the pine trees strangely red where the sun comes down.
I cannot say if it is our love, or the day, that is ending.
Although this land is not my own,
I will remember its inland sea and the waters that are so cold the sand as white as old bones, the pine trees strangely red where the sun comes down.
I cannot say if it is our love, or the day, that is ending.