Expressing my feelings (5) The night of April 29, 212 was cold and full of silk, and I couldn't stop dreaming. The willows bend their eyebrows and touch the water, and the moon hangs on the bridge. The trees are moving in the breeze, and the flying flowers frighten the lonely birds. The secluded forest detains tourists, and it is once again scary. Note: The ancient poems I wrote are not completely in the way of ancient poems, and sometimes they don't follow their laws, but just follow the nature. My pen name is hakodate.