Title: वैकल्पिक

Text: First thing we'd climb a tree, and maybe then we'd talk. Or sit silently, and listen to our thoughts. With illusions of someday, cast in golden light, no dress rehearsal, this is our life. And that's when the hornet stung me, and I had a feverish dream. With revenge and doubt, tonight we smoke them out. You are ahead by a century, and disappointing you is gettin' me down. प्रत्येक पराग्राफले परीक्षण हुनेछ।

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