There is no poetry, there is poetry
Summer afternoon
The rapeseed flowers turned yellow in such large areas
The summer is dyed through The long willow embankment in the river
and the exposed and covered ones on the river beach in the afternoon
Stories
There are butterflies, and the waves in the sea of ??flowers on the riverside On the tip
Dancing gracefully
When it falls
When the waves cease, they will never fly again
With you, I float Her long hair flowed with black temptation among the golden flowers
Her beautiful smile suddenly stirred up the panic in July
There is no need to look back< /p>
In the summer afternoon, the place where the butterfly rises again
There must be you
Those deep and eternal pairs