第177章 - 飞鸟集 - (印度)罗宾德拉纳特·泰戈尔

第177章 - 飞鸟集 - (印度)罗宾德拉纳特·泰戈尔

Your smile was the flowers of your own fields, your talk was the rustle of your own mountain pines, but your heart was the woman that we all know.