January, February, March, The cold is harsh. January, February, March, The cold is harsh.

I wonder how lines on palms tell of your story... I wonder how lines on palms tell of your story...

The poem shows that every year is a new journey to begin. The poem shows that every year is a new journey to begin.

Walking down the streets I realized, That sky with splashing vibrant aura... Walking down the streets I realized, That sky with splashing vibrant aura...

Let each mind hold the words of bards from yonder lands.... Let each mind hold the words of bards from yonder lands....

People have ruined for me the excitement for happiness People have ruined for me the excitement for happiness