Tag: silver
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On the White Hills
Smoke, a white smoke, floats on the white hills, / a whiteness that flies, scatters the snows. / No one comes now to pluck white roses, / so they fly into the air, whirl and twirl.
Smoke, a white smoke, floats on the white hills, / a whiteness that flies, scatters the snows. / No one comes now to pluck white roses, / so they fly into the air, whirl and twirl.