I speak of love that comes to mind: The moon is faithful, although blind; She moves in thought she cannot speak. Perfect care has made her bleak.
I speak of love that comes to mind:
The moon is faithful, although blind;
She moves in thought she cannot speak.
Perfect care has made her bleak.
I never dreamed the sea so deep,
The earth so dark; so long my sleep,
I have become another child.
I wake to see the world go wild.
(An Eastern Ballad)
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Fly me to the moon and
Let me play amoung the stars
Let me see what spring is like
On jupiter and mars
In other words, hold my hand
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Hurry up! = Avia, homi!
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