There are some roads that I have to go downwards from here
I wish my arms became a belt for your very slender waist
I will pass this roads downwards from here suddenly
O girl, am I going to think your work?
You always pass this roads downwards from here
Like the leaves of poplar, you turn to forty sides
This roads did not end even we walk more
I begged of God, but your bad-tempered mother did not die
There are some roads that I have to go downwards from here
I wish my arms became a belt for your very slender waist
I will pass this roads downwards from here suddenly
O girl, am I going to think your work?
You always pass this roads downwards from here
Like the leaves of poplar, you turn to forty sides
This roads did not end even we walk more
I begged of God, but your bad-tempered mother did not die