1 мин
Слушать(AI)The Song of the Barren Orange Tree
Woodcutter.
Cut my shadow from me.
Free me from the tormentof being without fruit.
Why was I born among mirrors?
Day goes round and round me.
The night copies mein all its stars.
I want to live without my reflection.
And then let me dreamthat ants and thistledownare my leaves and my parrots.
