Good wants to pull your microcheiria, pastes tightens in my chest.
好想牵你小手,贴紧在我胸口。
Good wants to pull your microcheiria, pastes tightens in my chest.
好想牵你小手,贴紧在我胸口。
This year although the bumper crop, she does not discard a grain of grain, the microcheiria picks up the golden rice ear, in the dimple fills the wave which smiles.
今年虽说大丰收,她丢掉一粒粮,小手拾起金稻穗,酒窝里充笑的浪。
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