Baby

I rarely meet you now
It is so unfortunate, believe me.
Did not have, I will smile,
So be it, let them.
For walking an hour not a holiday
I don't see you.

Your baby's growing years
And already read by syllables,
Mischievous and kind boy,
Your baby.
And when his hands go
It is happier in the world.
Could me it to be similar
Your baby.

Clouds, clouds, in rain,
The past will not return,
Clouds, clouds float by,
Where they wait, too.
For walking an hour not a holiday
I don't see you.

Your baby's growing years
And already read by syllables,
Mischievous and kind boy,
Your baby.
And when his hands go
It is happier in the world.
Could me it to be similar
Your baby.

Your baby's growing years
And already read by syllables,
Mischievous and kind boy,
Your baby.
And when his hands go
It is happier in the world.
Could me it to be similar
Your baby.

Your baby's growing years
And already read by syllables,
Mischievous and kind boy,
Your baby.
And when his hands go
It is happier in the world.
Could me it to be similar
Your baby.