Title: वैकल्पिक

Text: There is a growing golden light; a flower unfolding behind the mirror of your eyes. If an angel could hold it in his polished white hand, I know he'd release it like a bird to the sky. Now you are the warrior who will conquer this land. On a horse made of clouds, you will scatter the sands. Some people say God is long dead, but I heard something inside you with my head to your chest. प्रत्येक पराग्राफले परीक्षण हुनेछ।

Save test: यदि तपाईं यो टाइपिङ परीक्षणलाई साझा गर्न चाहानुहुन्छ भने यो प्रयोग गर्नुहोस् (केवल प्रमाणीकृत प्रयोगकर्ताहरूको लागि)।