Frequent whispers
Floating on the melting river.
Floating on the branches brewed by old trees
Floating across the newly broken grass.
One by one.
That's the wind calling for spring.
Can you hear me?
That burst of laughter.
From the field of flowers blooming
A mountain stream tinkling with spring water.
Pines and cypresses in full bloom in the wind
From further afield.
That's the tenderness washed away by the breeze.
It is the lingering amorous feelings of midsummer night.
It is the wind telling another beautiful story.
Can you hear me?
That sonorous singing voice
It is the endless cicada singing in the wilderness.
It's an ensemble of rice fields.
It is an ornament of rustling leaves.
Isn't this a symphony of autumn harvest?
Singing the harvest of a season
Have you ever heard of it?
That sad melody
A touching elegy
With the distant swan goose
Accompanied by flying snow
As the cry resounded through the earth
Like a low whimper from a flute.
In turn, it has become a deep attachment.
With dead leaves left by branches
Cleaning the rice fields leaves only straw.
Gently, gently
Say good night.
Wait for the lights to come on.
Welcome another four seasons.
You always thought
You can't see him.
In fact, I have seen his elegant gesture.
Dance between heaven and earth
You also think
You can't hear his voice.
In fact, he has been with you.
Wu Nong's soft language is low
It tells the story of his life cycle and four seasons.
-"On the Wind"