Look everywhere, there must be mountains.
Blurred dark green shadows,
This is the color of spring.
The flowing mist rises around,
Didn't show his true colors
Facing the flowing mist,
I would fantasize,
There is heaven there.
On a summer night,
I will quietly, quietly,
Waiting for the meteor shower to come ...
Make a wish,
Don't beg it,
At least, once, for a moment,
My green, young, poetic heart,
In my best years,
Had a soul exchange with the starry sky …
In autumn,
The sun is not dazzling,
The sky is as blue as washing,
Dotted with flowing clouds.
Occasionally,
A flying leaf,
Will float to my window.
In the mottled imprint,
It is engraved with the color of late autumn.
On a snowy morning,
This whirlpool of snow,
As white as a thousand years ago.
Outside the window,
This is an unpolluted silvery white world.
I'll see you,
The sanctity of this world.
In these years of circulation,
Four seasons cycle,
And a flowing heart,
An eternal heart.