Hộp Tin Đến - רומצי

Heart of a Woman
Often say to myself
Looks like a glow
That burned in silence
Try to smile a broken heart
Do not despise tears in the eyes of touched


(Refrain)
Do not kiss her hand when extended
That your lips will wither, will grow old
Kisses, which conjures up the spirit of dreams sodden
Resembles sunrise
... no it is not delayed