Teacher, I want to tell you a poem.

You said that red apples are fruit trees, and the bubbles blown out are colorful little suns. Teacher, I want to tell you that you are a magician, and you hold up a magical dream. You said that the bow on the child's head is a rotating propeller. So the little girl who loves beauty fantasizes that she can fly to the sky one day. Teacher, I want to tell you that you are an angel, and you shed a piece of youth and sunshine. You said that Sunflower is a Korean girl with a golden washbasin on her head, smiling and waiting for the farmer's uncle who came back from the field to wash her tanned face. Teacher, I want to tell you that you are a gardener, and you sow seeds and hope. You said that the moon has a bald head and no cotton hat, and the two stars next to it are frozen red ears. He has a cruel stepmother ... so the naughty boy took off his skating hat and burst into tears ... Teacher, I want to tell you that you are a holy angel and you have sown your vision and imagination. Teacher, I want to tell you that among children, you are the wind of imagination, the flag of fantasy, leading innocence and courage, swaying like a cloud and climbing the hill full of flowers. ...