Ducks float across the blue waters,
And hurry to their way, and on the sky,
According the southerly blows,
The Geese slice thru the white clouds and fly,
The red flower buds of plum blossoms
Gently burst at holm,
The old fisher ties his boat
To a willow and heads to home.
(Apr.16th,2024, Kinsley Lee)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem