Oil flies sing here and crickets play the piano here.
The lotus flowers in the lotus pond are all blooming shyly.
Fallen leaves dance with the wind.
That wave of snow seems to suddenly blush and show a little pink.
There are still one or two lamps leaking through the cracks in the tree. What is listless is the eyes of those who are sleepy.
Autumn is beautiful, dancing her skirt gracefully.
Autumn has come, and the golden red fruit on the tree is smiling. She nodded and smiled at us.
In the spring of March, the silver pear tree, which had been sleeping for a winter, was awakened by the drizzle.
A ruby pomegranate is like a little girl.