The vision I catch: rippling water puffed by spring breeze
and there is the reality of a river between weeping willows.
At the moment, the river is going across the city.
It becomes thin. 'No, I'm deadlocked; frog croaks are also left far from me.'
Yes, it's also rotten smell flowing there……
Then, it's back to the open country. Over there, paulownia trees are in full bloom-
clustering round the purple dignity, joyance is overflowing the rotund flowers.
But the locust trees are deliberately to be cold and pull a long face like reluctant brides.
Actually, They have already once eloped.
Coming to the riverside and appreciating the tranquil in the frog croaks
I no longer attempt to pay any attention to the mood of the waves;
I have even forgiven the mosquitoes' initial presence in the dusk.
On the way to Da Huo, May 1,2011
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem