Tác giả: Mitch Miller
The rain on the leaves is the tears of joy
Of the girl whose boy returns from the war.
The rain on the leaves is the bitter tears
When the mother hears her son is no more
The rain on the leaves is the cry that is torn
From a baby just born as life is begun
The rain on the leaves is an old couplés love
Much greater now than when they were young.
The rain on the leaves is the passionate voice
In a final choice when last love is near.
The rain on the leaves is the voice surprised
As it realizes its first love is herẹ
The rain on the leaves is the heart's distress
And a loneliness, as life passes bỵ
The rain on the leaves is the last caress
And a tenderness before love can die;
Of the girl whose boy returns from the war.
The rain on the leaves is the bitter tears
When the mother hears her son is no more
The rain on the leaves is the cry that is torn
From a baby just born as life is begun
The rain on the leaves is an old couplés love
Much greater now than when they were young.
The rain on the leaves is the passionate voice
In a final choice when last love is near.
The rain on the leaves is the voice surprised
As it realizes its first love is herẹ
The rain on the leaves is the heart's distress
And a loneliness, as life passes bỵ
The rain on the leaves is the last caress
And a tenderness before love can die;