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https://h.51melo.com/pages/song/share?id=81903937&from=share&invite_uid=100084375131
Apple was my pet dog｜
she was a mini‑size brown poodle
Every time she saw me｜
jumping up and down｜
and wanted to make me happy with her joy
//
and she succeeded｜
When I returned after the end of college term｜
I held my mom’s hands with the similar happiness｜
to cheered her up with the joy, as pure.
I succeeded sometimes｜
//
Apple was killed, a few years ago｜
at a little over one year old｜
by a car,
which did not even stopped after the impact｜
//
I regretted that I should not keep her in my inlaw’s country house｜
because their house sits so close to a national highway｜
//
My mom died of a curable disease, a few decades ago｜
when I was a still a sophomore
//
When I think of Apple｜
I feel sorry and sad｜
The feeling is lighter and lighter as the year goes by
//
When I think of my mom｜
I feel sorry and sad｜
But the feeling intensifies as I am getting older and older
//
Don’t feel bad, Apple｜
she was my dear and poor mom｜
Don’t feel bad, Apple,
she was my dear and poor mom｜
Don’t feel bad, Apple,
she was my dear and poor mom｜
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