God, I have no family. There is a cold spring under the dredging. There are seven children. My mother works hard.
The yellow bird, with its voice. There are seven children, don't comfort your mother.
Wandering sons, threads in the hands of a kind-hearted mother, make clothes for her wayward son's body. Before leaving, I had a stitch for fear that my son would come back late and his clothes would be damaged. But how much love does an inch of grass have? The third spring flower reports.
"The song at four o' clock at midnight. Haruka "The flowers in the forest in spring are more charming, the birds in spring are more sad, and the spring breeze is full of feelings and blows me away.