As follows:
1. "April in the Village" - author Weng Juan, Song Dynasty
The mountains are green and the rivers are white, and the rain is like smoke in the sound of the rules.
In April in the countryside, there are few idle people, so they are planting sericulture and planting fields.
Translation:
The hillsides and fields are lush with vegetation, and the color of the water in the rice fields complements the skylight. There is mist and rain in the sky, cuckoos are singing, and the earth is a prosperous scene. April is here, and no one is idle. They just finished sericulture and have to plant rice seedlings again.
2. "Village Night" - author Bai Juyi, Tang Dynasty
The frost grass is full of insects, and there are no people walking to the south of the village and to the north of the village.
Going out the front door alone to look at the wild fields, the moon is bright and the buckwheat flowers are like snow.
Translation:
In a patch of gray-white autumn grass beaten by frost, small insects were whispering, and there were no pedestrians around the mountain village. I came to the front door alone and looked at the fields. I saw the bright moonlight shining on the endless buckwheat fields. The buckwheat flowers on the ground were like a dazzling white snow.
3. "Village Travel" - Author Wang Yucheng, Song Dynasty
The chrysanthemums on the horse's path through the mountain are beginning to turn yellow, and the trust in the horse is long and prosperous.
Thousands of valleys are filled with late music, and several peaks stand silently in the setting sun.
Tangli leaves fall rouge color, and buckwheat flowers bloom with white snow fragrance.
What's the matter? I'm suddenly melancholy. The original trees on the village bridge look like my hometown.
Translation:
The chrysanthemums are turning slightly yellow as the horses walk along the mountain road, allowing the horses to walk freely with great interest.
Thousands of valleys reverberate and listen to the night, and watch several mountain peaks silently under the setting sun.
The fallen leaves of Tangli are as red as rouge, and the fragrant buckwheat flowers are as white as snow.
What makes me suddenly feel melancholy while chanting is that the small rural bridge looks very much like my hometown!