I dream of golden flowers,
marked with summer rays,
mottled with the shadows,
from trees in one array.
Why must we wait,
until the spring has sprung,
when we could still have flowers,
of Primrose, and Hyacinths, young?
I dream of golden flowers,
marked with summer rays,
mottled with the shadows,
from trees in one array.
Why must we wait,
until the spring has sprung,
when we could still have flowers,
of Primrose, and Hyacinths, young?