Birdsong in spring
Crisp and raw, melodious. Bring back the sunshine of a wandering winter.
The sound of the song is emerald green, spreading through the wilderness, the green grass, and the sky is full of fangfei.
The cry was gentle, and the wind of the clouds flew out. A few spring flowers, fragrant, eyes confused.
The small bridge wakes up in the morning light, and the flowers jump in the ears.
The wind pulls up the strings, the birds cry at dusk, and the chirps break into the night, in search of the dawn at the end.
Sweet, refreshing, a good bowl of aged wine. The shadows of the trees are drunk into swaying poetry.
Little birds hum the stories of spring, and the white clouds dry the warmth of the season.
Flying notes give birth to days of hope. Soft whispers, the remnants of winter obsession, continue to round...
Birdsong, seeds of movement, are planted by romantic farmers into the heart of spring.
