Оригинален текст
And in the monastery garden sat a woman with a book
A manuscript that lay within her frail and trembling arms
She looked around her nervously as guilt rose in her heart
But the sway of curiosity had drawn her out too far
And in the monastery garden sat a woman with a book
A manuscript that lay within her frail and trembling arms
She looked around her nervously as guilt rose in her heart
But the sway of curiosity had drawn her out too far