¡@ |
|
¤p ³¾
¤ÑªÅ¤Ó¯U¯¶¤F, §Ú·Q ·í§Úªø¤j«á¡A©È¤£°÷¦a¤è Åý§Ú¦ù®i¯Í»H
§Ú¤£¯à¦Ñ¬Oªø¤£¤j ¦í¦b¤p¤pªº±_ºÛùØ ¨C¤Ñ¾a¶ý¶ý±a¨Ó¹ª«
§Ú±`±`Å¥¨ì¾ð¸ªº¨p»y ªKÙ²nÁ|Áu¸µ¾ªº²z½× º¡¨¬¥¦Ìªº±ý±æ
§Ú¤~¬O¯u¥¿ªºªø¦³¤@Âù¯Í»H ªø¤j«á¡A¬°¥¦Ì¹ê²{ ¥¦Ì¹ê²{¤£¨ìªº²z·Q
Little Bird
The sky is so narrow, I think When I grow up, I suppose There is no enough space for me to stretch my wings
I can't always be small to live in a small nest Everyday, rely on mother to give my food
I always hear the leaves talking privately the theory of the branches raising their arms to fly To satisfy their desires
I am sure, I really have a pair of wings When I grow up , to achieve The ideals that they can't accomplish
|
|